


Begin Again

by thedorkychocobro



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: AU: Warren can see the future, Brotp Warren and Stella, Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, Hope I Don't Screw It Up, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, My First Fanfic, Slow Burn, Story is gonna get hella intense, Tags May Change, There isn't enough Grahamscott, There will most likely be some smut at some point, mentions of rachel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2018-12-06 03:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 87,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedorkychocobro/pseuds/thedorkychocobro
Summary: Warren experiences what must’ve been the most bizarre dream he’s ever had. Upon waking up, he learns that he has the ability to see the future. Within less than a week’s time, Warren discovers that Arcadia Bay will be reduced to nothing, engulfed by a super tornado. With Max M.I.A. half the time and the town surrounded by mystery, Warren realizes that he has no choice but to deal with this dilemma alone. At least that was until he ended up getting more than he bargained for with a certain foul-mouthed Prescott.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this is my first time writing a fanfic on this site. I was partially skeptical about posting this particular variation of the chapter because I had no clue whether it was pacing too fast or too slow. But luckily it's only the first chapter, AKA, the introduction. Hopefully I'll get into my groove once I write some more of this fic, but in the meantime, enjoy. Any criticism is much appreciated.

 

Today was the day. The day Warren decided he finally mustered up enough gall to ask Max out to the drive-in. The idea had struck him the very moment he saw the advertisement online. In a flash of a second, he hovered his mouse over the ad and clicked, his citrine orbs glistening and heart pounding with excitement. It was in Newburg, just sixty miles away, a showcasing of a Planet of the Apes marathon. It didn’t seem too far of a drive at all to Warren. He calculated that it would take about three hours to get there, considering his car had a maximum speed of 25 miles per hour, but he hoped Max wouldn’t mind.

The short brunette had captured his heart the moment she laid those doe eyes upon him. It had been during biology class. Since they sat parallel to each other, Warren couldn’t help but notice the obvious struggle Max had on the work. With his ‘commendable smarts’, as Ms. Grant always labeled it, Warren, on the other hand, breezed through the questions with nearly an hour of class left to spare.

Max kept her narrowed eyes on her own partially filled out paper, which was just another reason he admired her for. Most people would’ve openly scanned his work for the answers, and Warren...being Warren, probably would’ve let them. He silently watched her for a bit, noticing how frequently she would still her pencil or erase an answer mere seconds after putting it down. He decided to lend her a hand when he saw her frustration mount.

Warren honest to god expected Max to never talk to him again after he provided the answers. It was something he was unfortunately accustomed to. Being Blackwell’s biggest nerd, friends and appreciation were two words he’d never hear coexist in the same sentence.

Once he helped someone, he was usually cast aside, his services having came and went. Warren had already made the fatal mistake of assisting a girl one day and then speaking to her casually the next. A large part of him actually believed that he had made a new friend. Somebody who enjoyed his company and didn’t ignore him when he started talking about his science fiction movies or the latest add-on in whatever game he was playing.

He was naive.

Warren supposed that he should’ve stopped and ruminated over his course of actions before he cheerily, and rather stupidly, made his way over to the girl, who had been chatting with her friends near the lockers. He doesn’t think he could ever forget the look of absolute appallment that fell over her face when he said, _“What’s cookin, girly?”_

_Definitely_ not one of his shining moments.

Regardless, Max proved him wrong when she actually bothered to greet him on her way to class the following day. It certainly shocked him, to say the least, and he was sure his face was the equivalent shade of a ripe strawberry. From then on, Warren knew that Maxine Caulfield was the girl of his dreams. While he did have other female acquaintances, like Stella and Brooke, that’s all Warren considered them to be. Acquaintances. _Friends._ Not like Max.

Warren considered Max as more than just a friend, even if it was currently one-sided. He hoped that maybe today, he would finally be able to rectify that.

He had concocted the genius idea of getting Max to come see him by feigning like he wanted his flashdrive back. He had given it to her a few days ago and insisted that she view the galore of movie booty he had stashed on there. All expertly pirated, might he add.

So, as he typically did, Warren sent her a slew of texts with great speed, prior to inclining on the hood of his car. He only half anticipated for her to answer. She usually left his messages on read, or just responded with rather concise replies laced with the occasional snarky comment. Not that Warren minded.

Waiting patiently, Warren preoccupied himself with the only mobile game he considered worth his time. Geometry Dash. However, when he found that he had completed all the levels, _twice,_ and still received no response, Warren scrunched his brows together, standing straight from his slouched posture.

Even if Max had seen his messages and didn’t type out a response, Warren knew she wouldn’t just _completely_ ignore him. So he waited patiently a little longer, now humming various tunes he made out of the blue.

He just had to wait a little longer. _Yeah,_ that’s all.

Warren kept the notion of assurance at the forefront of his mind, trying to focus on anything. The rustling trees, the squirrel chipping at its acorn, _hell,_ his fingernails.

At one point, an aged pickup truck whirled by him, the tires screeching against the asphalt and filling his nostrils with the stench of burnt rubber. Warren just barely caught the sight of bright blue hair and a familiar pissed off face in the driver’s seat. He wondered where he had seen her before, but dismissed the thought quickly.

It wasn’t until after nearly an hour had passed that Warren deduced that Max had indeed, left him hanging. The thought planted a heavy pit in his gut, and he had to swallow the lump that formed in his throat.

_So much for going ape_ , he thought dejectedly.

Warren hadn’t even realized he had been standing there for so long until he became vaguely aware of the chill that bit his nose numb. With a half-hearted rub in an attempt to bring feeling back into his sniffer, Warren contemplated texting Brooke and asking her to go instead. Sighing, he took his phone out once more.

_“Hey, Gayram. Cockfield’s dog?”_ Someone barked a few feet away.

Warren flinched at the harsh directive, not daring to look up. He knew that voice anywhere. Despite it being fruitless, Warren acted like he didn’t even hear the other boy’s question, or see him approaching.

In fact, he didn’t acknowledge him until his brown loafers entered his vision.

“I’m talking to you, whore. Speak when spoken to.”

“Who’s asking?” Warren said with an obvious edge to his voice, finally averting his gaze. Nathan pinned him with icy blue slits. He harrowingly advanced closer, like a predator with its prey.

“Like you don’t know who the fuck I am. Now answer the goddamn question, or I’ll make you regret getting smart with me _._ Where the _fuck_ is Caulfield?” He snapped. At that, Warren’s expression contorted into a befuddled frown. Max? Why the hell would _Nathan Prescott_ be looking for Max? The question threw him for a loop, and even with his highly intelligent brain, Warren couldn’t draw a reasonable explanation.

_“Answer me, fucker!”_ Nathan spat.

“Back off, Nathan.” Warren rebutted, suddenly incensed. “I don’t even know where she is myself, but it’s not like I’d tell you anyway.”

If possible, Nathan looked even angrier than before.

“You sure you wanna test me, _Graham?”_ He questioned dangerously. Surprisingly, Warren held his ground, crossing his arms across his chest in defiance.

He scoffed, “I’m not scared of a poser like you, _Prescott.”_

Before he could register what was happening, Nathan's skull slammed into his. The impact sent a flash of white pain streaking across Warren's vision, rattling his senses; he tumbled to the concrete with a groan.

“You’re gonna get it now, _bitch!”_ A knee was propelled into his gut, followed by fists pounding into his face over and over again. Warren couldn’t summon a reprisal, his head aching from the brutal headbutt which was only made worse by Nathan’s strikes.

A particularly nasty punch made his right eye explode in agony, and the adrenaline from the hit gave Warren the strength he needed to shove the irate Prescott up and off him. Just in time too. The school security guard came scurrying over, dragging Nathan firmly away from him. Warren didn’t think he’d ever be so happy to see him.

“Calm yourself, Prescott!” David Madsen demanded to the writhing boy in his arms, restraining him to no avail. Nathan quickly tore himself out his hold. In an instance, he whirled on the man, shaking his slender finger at him in rage.

“Don’t you FUCKING touch me, asshole! I could have your ass fired so fast!” He threatened. David’s moustache twitched in ire, but he said nothing more. It was then that Nathan turned to Warren.

“Next time, your head’s going up your ass, _Gayram_. Watch yourself.” With that, he stalked away, hunching his shoulders, his fists balled tightly at his sides.

Warren glared at him as he left. As he laid there, with his face aching, his pride only somewhat crushed, and Madsen yelling some orders at Nathan’s retreating figure, Warren came to a single conclusion.

_He really fucking hated Nathan Prescott._

 

_~_

 

_“Jesus_ , Warren.” Stella winced, gently pressing the cloth against Warren’s busted lip. The blood instantly seeped into the soft material, and she shook her head at the sight. Warren attempted to offer a small chuckle, but he hissed at the sting. _Fuck you, Nathan._ He thought venomously.

“What did you do to warrant pissing off Blackwell’s biggest basket case?” Stella asked him. The bloodied cloth was removed briefly, allowing Warren to properly answer.

Part of him wanted to tell Stella, to get this feeling he had weighing in on him off his chest. Yet the more caring and considerate part of him thought against the idea. Last thing he needed was for Stella to be within ten feet of that asshole, who was more volatile and batshit insane that he originally gathered. After all, Max was already within his sights―for a reason Warren swore to find out―he wasn’t about to have someone else he cared about near that psychopath. If that meant Warren had to stretch the truth, then he sure as hell would.

Dismissively, he shrugged.

“Nothing for you to worry about.” He murmured. “I took care of it.” Not that he didn’t see it coming, but Warren could tell that Stella didn’t at all believe that explanation. That was all he could provide as an answer. For now, at least.

“Anyway,” He began, changing the subject before she could grill him any further. “Have you seen Max? I’ve been texting her all day and she hasn’t responded.”

To his surprise and slight hurt, Stella nodded.

“I saw her a few minutes ago, actually. Looks like she was in a hurry to get somewhere.” She said. Warren hummed softly in consideration.

So, she _was_ around, just like he figured. Either she didn’t want to be bothered, or she just simply lacked the time to talk. Still, Warren would’ve at least appreciated a short heads up, instead of being disregarded altogether.

He sighed. Stella tilted her head at him, a look of sympathy gracing her features. She knew how badly in love Warren was with Max, considering how often he raved about her. In all honesty, Stella thought that was the cutest thing. She could totally see them being a couple. They would be the dorkiest, yet most compatible pair she’d seen in a long time at Blackwell.

She resumed patting at his wounds. “Don’t worry about it, Warren. I’m sure Max had a good reason for it. Like I said, it did seem like she had somewhere urgent to be. That could be it.” Warren peered at her, slightly hopeful by her words of consolation.

“You really think so?” He asked. “It’s just not like Max to straight up ignore me. I mean, sure I can be a real pain but she’s never  _not_ talked to me.”

“Maybe she just didn’t have any time to.”

That’s what Warren thought too. But it was his notoriously crappy luck that Max would have zero time to chat on the same day he wanted to ask her to the drive in. He even rehearsed what he was going to say too.

Talk about a bummer.

He imagined what it would’ve been like. Him and Max together in the coziness of his car. His arm encircling her shoulders while they shared a tub of popcorn and the movie playing on the screen in front. Warren suddenly looking away just as Max does. They lean in slowly, until they’re just inches apart, her breath tickling his nose…

_“Ow,_ shit.”

Warren abruptly came back to reality when he felt Stella start pressing against the horrid bruise around his eye. It hurt like a bitch, which only provided him all the more justification to pay Nathan back.

As kindly as he could, Warren eased away from Stella’s touch, smiling apologetically.

“Thanks for the help Stel, but I think I’m just gonna turn in for the day.” Stella offered a small glance at the window, before looking at Warren, incredulous. The sun was still in the sky, warm titian light filtering in through the window and releasing particles into the air. It bathed majority of the campus in a pleasant blanket of heat. _The golden hour._

“You don’t usually go to sleep this early, Warren.”

Warren raised his brows. “And how do _you_ know that?”

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe because of all the times you had me watch you play World of Warcraft for _hours_ on end?” Stella eloquently countered.

Warren effectively flushed; he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. It was something he had a habit of doing; a tick, some might even say. His friends had been quick to point it out. He had been trying for eons to stop, but Warren supposed that old habits truly do die hard.

“I guess you’re right about that.” He said shyly.

“Sure am. But you sure you don’t want me to at least finish cleaning up your eye?” Stella offered, watching as Warren stood up from where he was kneeling before her. He stretched, simultaneously grinning down at her.

“I’ll be fine, Stel.” Warren said. “Besides, my head still kinda hurts. No thanks to Nathan Prickscott.” Stella giggled and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, Nathan is seriously messed up. Only reason why he hasn’t gotten in any real trouble yet is because he’s a Prescott. If he didn’t have that title, I bet he would’ve been expelled a long time ago.”

Warren trailed over to the door, hand idling on the knob. “That’d be great. But we all know that’s probably not happening anytime soon enough.”

Stella smiled wishfully at him, a peculiar sadness lingering in her eyes. “In another lifetime, Warren. In another lifetime.”

 

~

 

On his way back to the boys dorm, Warren ran into Kate. He hadn’t had any intention of talking to her, but that sentiment was flushed down the drain when he saw how miserable she looked. Her face was overwhelmingly dismal, her eyes puffy and lips set in a firm line. It seemed she carried that sad aura everywhere she went now.

The couple times Warren saw her in the hallway and sometimes outside, Kate always appeared like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole more than anything else. He figured it all had to do with the video: the latest gossip everybody seemed to talk about like it was something as casual as the weather. Warren wasn’t the least bit proud to admit that he too had seen the infamous video, Brooke having sent him the link. He watched it one and a half times.

Witnessing Kate’s distress over the whole thing made Warren feel like an asshole for ever clicking on that web address.

Hoping to spread some positivity, he smiled at her.

“Hey, Kate.” He said politely, waving a bit. Kate still appeared much too upset for Warren’s liking, even as she tried to return his smile.

“Hi, Warren. Didn’t expect..” Her eyes fleetingly enlarged when she saw the damage Nathan inflicted. “What happened to you?”

“Oh this?” Warren pointed at his damaged face. “Just got in a scrap with some dic― _I mean,_ guy…” The crude insult almost fell from his lips, until he quickly remembered Kate’s religious status. Max would kill him if she found out he offended Kate like that.

The church girl nodded absently.

“Yeah, Stella helped me clean up a bit, so it’s all good.” He said a little too merrily.  

Kate hugged her arms together, voice now even more melancholy. “That’s great, Warren. It really is.”

That appeared to be the end of their conversation; Kate quietly moved past him to head to the dorms, leaving Warren still standing on the staircase. Yet he didn’t want it end there.

Max was more so Kate’s friend. Warren had only talked to her once, which was when Max had introduced him to her. The Kate Marsh he knew now was a complete reverse from the sweet and conversational Kate Marsh who insisted he have tea with her and Max.

It almost felt like his duty to be there for Kate, nobody else was trying to. Plus, he knew without a doubt that Max would want him to.

Before he had the chance to back out of it, Warren was already shouting, “Wait a sec, Kate!” Kate halted, looking at Warren over her petite shoulder in confusion.

“What, Warren?”

Warren floundered a minute, cogitating an excuse. He gripped the railing with more force than necessary, until his lips finally caught up with his brain.

“Do you, um...wanna get some tea sometime?” He proposed.

The question clearly caught Kate off guard. Warren hoped that her face would’ve miraculously brightened, all sadness leaving her form as she eagerly accepted his invitation. What Warren hadn’t been hoping for was to see that doleful expression almost instantly fall back into place.

“Thanks Warren, but I don’t think tea is going to make me feel better.” She said. And just like that, she was gone.

 

~

 

Warren sent another barrage of messages to Max the moment his head hit the pillow. The messages he sent earlier were marked, indicating that she had seen and read them. It did make Warren feel slightly better but at the same time, even worse. He scanned over his most recent texts.

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 5:57 P.M.]_**

_Maxwell Silverhammer! Where did you scamper off to now?_

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 5:59 P.M.]_**

_Stella told me she saw you leaving campus._

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 6:02 P.M.]_**

_I know it’s probably not any of my business, but any reason why Nathan was looking for you?_

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 6:05 P.M.]_**

_We ended up fighting in the parking lot._

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 6:06 P.M.]_**

Attached Image 

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 6:06 P.M.]_**

_Took a couple hits for Team Max._ (ง ͠° ͟ʖ #)ง

 

Knowing he wasn’t going to get a response anytime soon, Warren tossed his phone to the side, blowing a stray lock of hair out of his face.

What a crappy day. Here he thought getting rejected/ignored by Max was the worst thing to have happened to him today, but then suddenly _Nathan fucking Prescott_ of all people decided to add him to his shitty hit list.

If Warren hated him before, he sure as hell despised him now. The self proclaimed ‘King’ of Blackwell. More like King of dickheads.

Warren had only had the unfortunate displeasure of interacting with Nathan two times before. The first time had been in the boys’ locker room. Even though he never saw Nathan actually set foot in the pool, he had a locker in there. Apparently it served as nothing more than a storage for his meds, which Warren assumed he had to take in order to manage his anger. Didn’t seem to be doing much for him though. When Nathan had noticed the brunette’s curious staring, he proceeded to slam his locker shut and go off on him.

The second time Warren had unwillingly interacted with the young Prescott was on the steps of the school building. He, along with Victoria and other various Vortex Club jerks, had taken it upon themselves to loiter right there at the entrance. Since it didn’t seem like they had any intentions of moving soon, Warren had two options: either risk walking past them and most likely be drowned in ruthless insults and jeers, or just stand there and subsequently skip class.

Warren obviously went with the former.

Just as he anticipated, the moment Warren entered their line of vision, they unleashed a torrent of verbal abuse upon him. Though he could’ve easily ignored it, Nathan had felt compelled to stick his leg out as Warren tried to hastily pass. His shin had been the first thing to make collision with the step when he fell, an undignified whine escaping him and robbing him of some of his already minuscule school reputation.

Just to add salt in the wound, Nathan snidely remarked, _“Jeez, Gayram. Didn’t you ever learn how to walk with two feet in front of you?”_ Cue obnoxious snob laughs.

The rest of that day was spent hobbling between his classes, wishing he could just beat the shit out of Nathan.

Today, however, was the last strike. Somehow, someway, Warren would get Nathan back. He would get him back _good._ There was only so much rich kid bullshit he could tolerate, and Warren knew he had reached his limit. For the remainder of the evening, he laid upon his bed, devising his ultimate plan of enacting revenge. He scribbled a couple ideas down, crossing out the ones that didn’t exactly fit his agenda and circling the ones that had potential.

It made him feel like an evil villain, plotting his nemesis’ demise. Of course, Warren wouldn’t go _that_ far, but just far enough so that he could damage Nathan’s pride, just like he damaged his.

The dull throbbing in his head eventually forced Warren to call it a night. He yanked off his dark navy tee and settled for sleeping in the yellow shirt underneath. Jeans were discarded on the floor, trousers released, and soon enough, Warren was in bed, blanket covering half his body. He fell asleep in less than five minutes.

On the desk, his phone illuminated with a new message.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. I want to apologize for the time it took me to upload this next chapter, and I also want to apologize for the quality. I've been going through some pretty shitty things as of late, and it nearly destroyed my ability to continue the chapter. However, I didn't want to leave you guys hanging, so I went ahead and finished it. The beginning of the chapter explores Warren's dream/nightmare that...well, don't wanna spoil it. You'll just have to read and find out.

The world was encased in darkness. All around him, as far as his eyes could see, Warren was entirely surrounded by the blank space of emptiness, not a shred of light to be seen. It was only when Warren tried to move his limbs did he become aware of the lack of solid ground beneath his feet. He was flying. Yet instead of being a pleasurable sensation, Warren couldn’t label it as anything but dreadful.

_“Hello?!”_ He called, his voice sounding spectral. It traveled through the area around him, prior to returning back to him in a resounding echo that rumbled within his chest. Yep, completely alone. To make matters worse, Warren’s body felt like lead. He couldn’t maneuver out his stagnate position; his arms and legs swayed back and forth, but he remained where he was, floating in space.

_This is so weird._ Warren thought to himself. Just when he was convinced that he was going to be stuck there for eternity, the world started to twist around him. Things became manifest, colors filled his eyes, and soon enough, reality stilled.

He was in the lab.

The sounds of eagerly socializing students and pencil scribbling on paper eventually reached his ringing ears, and Warren slothfully adjusted to the change in scenery. When he at last grasped his equilibrium, Warren looked around. At the desk, Ms. Grant was grading papers with flourish. Around the tables, majority of the students were talking amongst each other, about the assignment, it seemed. The few students who weren’t were either on their phones or working alone. Amongst them, Warren immediately recognized vivid highlights and an annoyed face. Brooke. She didn’t even attempt to join her other classmates, instead being more committed to working in solitude.

Everything looked...normal. The realization nearly drew a sigh of relief out of Warren, until he suddenly noticed the otherworldly glow his body took on. He rose from his seat with a start.

_“What the fuck?”_ Warren looked his hands over, front to back. They were _translucent._ Nobody seemed to pay any attention to his blatant outburst either, which officially confirmed that his dream was still in full effect. What scared Warren shitless was the fact that he could _see_ himself still sitting on the stool. Unlike his current self, the other him looked tangible and non-ghostly. He talked to others and they responded. Was he some kind of entity?

This knowledge allowed Warren to easily head over to the door without even a single glance in his direction. He reached for the knob, expecting to feel cold metal underneath his fingertips. Warren didn’t know exactly why he flinched when his hand phased through the object, shaking his head in disbelief prior to walking straight into the door. He found himself standing in the middle of the hallway.

The bell rung mere moments after he left, though there were a few students already roaming the halls. He recognized a few faces. Juliet and Zachary. Juliet looked incredibly peeved with her jocky boyfriend, pushing past him and carrying on about something regarding her looks. Warren didn’t pay them much attention. Giggling ceaselessly by the lockers, he saw Taylor and Courtney. He didn’t particularly care about them either. Like Nathan and Victoria, two people he found to be entirely full of themselves, they were apart of the infamous Vortex Club. The clique that only catered to the quote unquote, ‘cool’ kids. Warren, of course, was not included in that category.

Not that he wanted to be.

Warren offered the other few people he knew a succinct glance, nearly walking away until he saw a short brunette a few feet from him. There was no mistaking the bright lazuline eyes, short cropped hair, or dusted freckles. It was Max Caulfield.

Unlike most of the other students, Max was alone, inclining against the wall, one leg bent, she too poring over the various faces of Blackwell. It wasn’t long before Max adorned her earbuds. As if she didn’t before, she looked completely out of touch with the outside world. Max then gave a leisure blink of her eyes, a soundless exhale escaping her as she abandoned her repose and easily migrated into the sea of students.

Warren trailed after her. “Wait up, Max.” He said, even though he knew she couldn’t hear or see him. While he would never tailgate Max like this in reality, having not being able to see her in the waking world made Warren yearn for her presence. Besides, it was only a dream.

_A very weird, sci-fi flick kind of dream._ A voice chided in his mind.

While walking, Max would pause here and there, peering at the various notices and papers posted arbitrarily on the walls. She stared at one paper in particular for a while, prior to turning away with a sad look. Warren glanced at it as well.

_Rachel Amber._

The girl that had been missing since April. Her posters were everywhere around the school, making it impossible to not know about her. He had only seen her about once or twice around campus, hanging out with people he wouldn’t even consider being around. Warren just hoped that wherever Rachel went, she was okay.

He continued following behind Max until she disappeared in the girls’ bathroom, to which Warren blushed and chose to remain outside. Dream or not, he wasn’t going to cross _that_ boundary. Patiently waiting for Max to come back out, he stood awkwardly with his hands in his back pockets, whistling an off beat tune.

“Totally not weird..” He said to himself.

Warren’s sense of integrity was forgotten the moment Nathan suddenly entered the girls’ bathroom as well. He bristled in hostility, concern for Max now erupting in his chest. All sorts of horrible case scenarios involving Nathan and Max filled his brain, and without another moment of hesitancy, Warren stormed in.

At least he _was_ until a familiar blue haired girl walked right through him.

She went into the bathroom too, and Warren stood there, astonished.

_What the hell?_ What was going on in there? Does Max have anything to do with this? Realizing he wasn’t going to obtain any answers by standing there, Warren briskly walked through the door.

“I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say.” The blue-haired girl remarked as she was checking the stalls. Nathan was at the sink, gripping the rim with bleached knuckles. He looked jittery and uncomfortable, something that Warren was shocked to see.

“Now, let’s talk bidness.” The girl strolled back over, a slight cockiness in her step.

“I got nothin’ for you.”

“Wrong. You got hella cash.” She shot back.

Nathan kept his gaze below as he responded, “That’s my family. Not me.” The girl clearly wasn’t having it.

“Oh boo hoo, poor little rich kid. I know you been pumpin’ drugs n’ shit to kids around here.” She accused, coming closer. Warren didn’t have the faintest clue what the hell was going on. He scurried over to the farthest stall, checking the side where his eyes befell upon Max. She looked so small, practically curled against the stall as she held her head in her hands. She obviously heard what was going on, and Warren couldn’t help but pity his friend.

“Man, I can see the headlines now.” The blue haired girl was now inches away from Nathan, hands on the sink.

“Leave them out of this, bitch.”

She raised her voice, “I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself―” She shoved him harshly.

Warren could’ve sworn his soul left his body when he saw Nathan reach into his jacket and brandish a gun. He pointed it at the blue haired girl, whose face contorted in fear as she immediately dropped her act, backing away.

“You don’t know who the fuck I am, or who you’re messing around with!” The tables turned: Nathan advanced on the girl, pinning her to the wall while directing the gun precisely at her stomach. She uselessly gripped him by the wrist.

“Where’d you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!”  Her voice wavered, no longer intrepid. Warren jumped when Nathan’s palm crashed against the wall.

“Don’t _EVER_ tell me what to do! I’m so _SICK_ of people trying to control me!” He shouted. This was bad. This was really fucking bad. Warren felt helpless. He couldn’t just sit there and watch Nathan murder a girl in a fucking _bathroom_ of all places. But what could he do? It was a dream, after all!

“You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs.” The girl weakly warned.

Out the corner of his eye, Warren saw Max move.

“Nobody would ever miss your “punk ass” would they?”

She reached underneath the janitor’s cart, retrieving a hammer and cracking it against the glass of the fire alarm.

_“Get that gun away from―”_

Nathan and the girl’s potentially fateful altercation was silenced by the blearing shriek of the tocsin. The gun was lowered.

“No way..”

To Warren’s relief, the girl was smart enough to seize the opportunity of escape; she kneed Nathan in the crotch, pushing him to the floor when he was stunned.

“Don’t _EVER_ touch me again, freak!” She spat. She hastily left with a swing open of the door. Nathan hovered a hand over his sore area, but didn’t stay down for long. He collected himself, concealing his gun in his red jacket, and offered a brief glance at the photo on the floor.

“Another shitty day…” He muttered, stumbling out the bathroom.

Warren took a few shaky steps forward, unable to comprehend what the fuck just happened. Max hadn’t moved from her position, but he saw the stray tears that were inching down her face.

_"I'm sorry, Chloe..”_ She whispered over and over again.

Chloe. That name...he was sure he heard it before, but where?

Warren waited until Max had finally rose up and left the bathroom before doing anything else. Just before Warren could follow her, the world suddenly shifted again. On instinct, he shielded his eyes. Warren didn’t lower his arms back down until a horrified scream assailed his ears.

He was still on campus, but he was outside now. Rain poured overhead, passing through his body, Warren surrounded by the entire student body. Almost everybody adorned a look of terror, while others openly had out their phones and were recording. He followed their gaze, his heart plummeting to his feet. _Oh god, Kate._ The church girl was literally tittering on the edge of death, her arms spread across like an eagle as she edged further and further off the roof of the dormitory.

_Jesus, was this all because of the video?_

Fresh screams erupted from the crowd as Kate was suddenly free-falling. Her body fell like a stone, hurtling towards earth.

_“Kate, no!”_ Warren cried. This couldn’t happen. Somebody, _anybody_ had to save Kate. Kate _couldn’t_ die. But nobody could. It was too late. Warren turned away as her body hit the ground with a sickening crack. Before his tears could fall, he finds himself in yet another location. This place he knows all too well.

His own dorm room.

Warren isn’t sure what to think as he looks at himself sitting on the messy bed, writing something down on a single piece of paper. His hand looks heavy, the air feels suffocating, and as he walks over and skims over the first line of the paper, he’s punched in the gut with realization.

He was writing a eulogy to Kate. Warren observed as he wiped furiously at his watery eyes, forcing himself to finish the letter. Words like ‘loss’ and ‘memory’ burn itself into his mind, and it doesn’t leave him even as he finds himself back in the main building.

This time, it’s dark, not a student in sight, suggesting that it was curfew hours.

Warren is shocked to see himself roaming the empty halls, using the light from his phone for visibility. He has no idea what he would be doing entering Blackwell during curfew, so his interest is paramount as he watches himself head towards Mr. Jefferson’s class. Warren didn’t even take photography. He heads over to the desk, which was surprisingly unlocked. He rifles through it, rummaging through the contents before pulling out a manilla folder. His eyes scan over it shortly, before he resumes searching.

Darkness befalls him once more.

He’s now at the Two Whales, himself sitting at the same booth where he ended up permanently carving into the table’s surface. He’s restless, his leg incessantly swaying from side to side while he played with his fingers on the table. Every few seconds, his eyes would dart to the window before looking away just as quickly, like he’s waiting for something.

_Or someone._

Warren silently questioned to himself what could possibly be making him behave so nervously until the entrance bell jingles, in walking Nathan motherfucking _Prescott._ Warren couldn’t believe it. Nathan makes a deliberate beeline to the table he’s sitting at and slides into the seat across from him, almost instantly noticing Warren’s unsettlement. Smirking callously, Nathan begins to talk. Warren can’t make anything of what they’re saying; their voices are garbled messes in his canals. It isn’t long before he’s at the lighthouse. He’s not alone though.

Nathan is leaning against the bench, a smoke between his lips and a hard look in his eyes. Warren stands a few feet away, arms crossed. He still can’t make out what they’re saying, but then suddenly Nathan is crushing his cigarette under his heel and sighing heavily. He says something else, obviously important due to the way Warren sees himself widen his eyes, face completely aghast. It was at times like these that Warren wished he knew how to read lips.

The world changes.

Crashing waves and squawking birds are the first thing that greets his ears. Standing on the boardwalk, is him and Max. The pixie brunette looks just about as distressed as she did in the bathroom, while Warren looks like he’s having difficulty believing whatever it is Max is telling him.

Everything after that is a blur. He saw glimpses of Nathan, Max, and the blue haired girl here and there, but everything starts to flash before him in such a speed that Warren loses tracks of what’s happening altogether.

When the world decided to regain its shit, Warren gasps at the sensation that overtakes him. Rain. Frigid rain coaxed by brutal winds, soaking his thin outfit and chilling him to the bone. He peeked through the crack of his arm and realized that he was at the lighthouse again. Only this time, he was little ways down the hill, and alone.

_“What the hell is going on now?”_ His words came out much less confident than he’d liked it to. Trudging in the landslide of dirt and water, Warren headed up to the lighthouse. He just barely avoided being crushed by a fallen tree, a stray branch rebounding and nicking his arm.  He hissed at the pain but didn’t stop.

Eventually, Warren was in the clearing. Half the cliff had been weathered away, and the bench was pulling loose, yet the lighthouse was still standing. But Warren hardly paid any attention to that. _Holy shit._ Moving menacingly across the water, Warren ogled the massive tornado. It picked up anything in its path, devouring it in its wake or shattering it into pieces like chaff.

And it was heading straight for Arcadia Bay.

_It’s just a nightmare,_ he had to remind himself . A very fucked up nightmare, but it wasn’t veritable. _None_ of it was.

Yet the rain felt all too real. The pain in his arm felt too real. The cracking thunder and hollow whistle ghosting in his ears sounded too real.

_It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not…_

A boat crashes into the lighthouse. It crumbles and breaks, dropping towards him.

Everything goes black.

 

~

 

_“No!”_ Warren screamed; the covers were flung to the side and onto the floor. His body shook profusely, drenched in sweat that made his clothes cling to his skin.

_Oh god, was that real?_ Frantically pondered Warren. His eyes looked around for familiar objects, bouncing across the vicinity until his rapidly pounding heart started to slow down. He wasn’t at the lighthouse. He was in his dorm. There was no tornado―

Arcadia Bay was safe.

_“Hey!”_ A loud thump resounded on his wall, startling him. _“Shut the fuck up, Graham!”_ Warren glared at the offending wall.

_Like I was purposely trying to wake everybody up, asshole._ He mentally fumed. Still, Warren couldn’t shake the image of Max cowering against the stall, or Nathan pulling out the gun, or Kate jumping off the roof..

Or the tornado.

Just to make sure, Warren darted to his window and looked outside. No rain. No tornado. Just the dim light of the rising sun, meaning that it was still early. Most people were likely still sound asleep around this time and Warren envied them for it.

The fear of falling back asleep and potentially being back in that nightmare was a risk Warren was not willing to take. Scrubbing at the crust around his eyes, Warren clambered out of bed. He needed a serious wake up shower. However, his foot just barely touched the floor before he doubled over in agony.

_“Ah..f-fuck!”_ Warren clenched his teeth; his head felt like it was being split wide open. He was subjected to everything he witnessed in his nightmare all over again.

He heard the same person he disturbed earlier hurl something else at his wall, but Warren couldn’t stop to acknowledge it.

_Thestormiscomingthestormiscomingthestormiscoming_ ―

His derailing train of notions were cut off by his phone vibrating loudly on the desk. It played its ringtone of the Harry Potter theme, and Warren wearily made his way over to it, nearly falling to the floor. Lifting it up, he squinted at the screen.

**_Call from Mad Max._ **

Max was calling him? But why so early? Furthermore, why was she calling him now after she didn’t bother to reply to any of his messages yesterday? The questions rang through his mind as he hit the answer button and brought the phone to his ear.

_“...Warren?”_ Max’s voice tentatively inquired.

“Max?” A burst of static filtering through his phone made him recoil a bit.

_“I’m so glad you answered. I didn’t know if you’d be awake or not. Sorry if I woke you.”_

Warren sat back down on his bed, cradling his throbbing skull. “I’m used to getting up early anyway.” He assured. “What’s up?”

_“I wanted to tell you something pretty...surreal.”_

“I’m a good listener.”

Max was quiet for a moment before she asked, _“Okay, so..you saw the snow yesterday, right?”_ For a second, Warren thought he had heard wrong, until Max had asked him again.

“We’re in the middle of October, Max. Oregon doesn’t get any snow until the later months.” Warren argued.

_“No, Warren, it was snowing yesterday. It was on the news and everything. Did you not see it?”_

Warren raked his nails across his scalp. He had been too preoccupied with formulating a plan for getting Nathan back that he must’ve been oblivious to the snow. And...Warren trusted Max. Probably more than he trusted himself. If she said that there had been a snowfall yesterday, then it must’ve been true. He headed over to his computer.

“I must’ve missed it, but I’m checking the news right now. Somehow, I have a feeling you’re not joking.” Warren told her. Balancing his phone between his shoulder and the crook of his neck, Warren briskly put in his password, opening up the browser. He didn’t even have to type anything in, the top news in full view.

**_Snow In Oregon Leaves Meteorologists Baffled._ **

“Holy shit..” Warren gaped.

_“You see it?”_ Max piped in. Warren nodded, but then realized she couldn’t see him and answered verbally.

“Yeah, but that’s not possible..” He clicked on the accompanying video.

Footage of bewildered Arcadia citizens played on the screen, eyeing the alabaster flakes drifting to earth. They didn’t stick, as the sun immediately melted them, but Warren was in shock regardless.

_“As you can see around me, it is currently snowing here in Arcadia Bay, about 3 months earlier than what was predicted.”_ The news anchor informed. _“It’s quite warm as well, nearly 80 degrees, much too hot for precipitation. This snow has meteorologists across the state scrambling to find an explanation. Several residents have been vocal about the matter, citing links to global warming and what some eerily called, ‘a sign’.”_

Warren paused the video there, grabbing his phone. “Max, this is―”

_“Bizarro?”_ She interrupted.

“It’s..definitely fucking crazy.” Warren shook his head. “I still don’t believe what I saw.”

_“Warren, there was a reason why the snow fell yesterday.”_

“What do you mean?”

_“I mean, I know why the snow fell.”_ She elucidated. Warren furrowed his brows, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No offense Max, but not even the best meteorologists could explain that weird fucking snow. I doubt either of us could.”

Max adamantly refuted, _“No, Warren just listen. I have to tell you something, but you have to promise that you’ll keep it between you and me. For now.”_

“Don’t insult me. Max, go on.” He encouraged.

Another burst of static came through the phone, though he didn’t move away this time.

_“Warren.”_ Max breathed, _“I’ve lived through this week before.”_

 

~

 

Hot water droplets trickled down his flushed skin and vanished down the drain. Normally, it was a feeling he cherished, but right now, it only made him numb. The conversation with Max played over and over in his head, so frequently that he practically memorized every word spoken.

 

_Warren had been frozen in his chair, fingers still clasped around his phone. It took a long while and Max’s concerned vocals to draw him out his stupor._

_“Max..what are you_ ―”

_“I know what’s going to happen this week, Warren.” Max told him._

_“But how? I don’t understand.”_

_“I can’t...I can’t tell you everything, but just know that the snow was just the beginning.”_

_“Beginning of what?” Warren asked. His whole reality came crashing down in a single sentence._

_“The beginning of the storm.”_

 

It was real. Warren hadn’t gone crazy, but part of him wished he had. His nightmare―his _vision_ , it was real. Somehow, Max too had seen the storm and knew it was going to destroy Arcadia Bay. But _how?_ And what did she mean by she’s lived through this week before? Did that mean the rest of his nightmare was real as well?

This was all too much for Warren to handle.

Shutting off the water, he got dressed before stepping out, water dripping off the ends of his hair. Warren halted in his tracks, for the very last person he had wanted to see just happened to be at the sink. He was still in his sleepwear, which only consisted of a plain white t-shirt and dark red sweatpants, brushing his teeth. His caramel curls were messy and sat atop his cranium in all directions: a clear bedhead. Warren had never seen Nathan look so...unkempt. It was certainly a sight.

When Nathan finally realized that Warren was standing behind him, fresh out of the shower and looking straight at him through the mirror, he sneered and immediately stopped brushing his teeth. He spat the rinse out in the sink, disgusted.

“What the hell are you looking at, _Gayram?”_

Warren clenched his jaw in annoyance, the worry of upcoming events being momentarily forgotten.

“Not you, Prickscott. Don’t flatter yourself.” He retorted, heading to the farthest sink to brush his teeth as well. Nathan laughed, but upon further inspection, his eyes displayed nothing but pure hatred.

“Early morning or not, I will gladly kick your ass again.” He menaced. Warren rolled his orbs.

Like he cared. The only reason why he had gotten beat up in the first place was because Nathan caught him off guard, therefore, easily maintaining the upper hand. It was a coward’s move at best, in his opinion.

“Whatever you say, Prescott.” Warren muttered, applying paste to his brush. “I’ve seen puppies scarier than you.”

In his peripheral vision, Warren saw Nathan bristle. 

_“What the fuck did you just say, Graham?”_ He hissed. Warren ignored him, casually brushing his teeth and pretending like he didn’t see Nathan shooting daggers at the side of his head. Warren knew he probably shouldn’t be provoking Nathan, considering how poorly that ended the last time, yet at the moment, he didn’t give a damn. This asshole needed to be taken down a few pegs for once.

Warren gasped in mock surprise. “Wow, you _actually_ said my last name right. I’m honored.” 

Nathan advanced.

“I’m warning you, bitch _._ I’ll paint this entire bathroom in your own goddamn blood.”

Warren shrugged. “Just sayin’. You calling me by my actual last name is a rarity.”

“You’re about to become a rarity if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

Warren went quiet, but it was only for a second. Turning to the other boy, he softly quipped, “Didn’t take you as the sensitive type, Nathan.”

The toothbrush in his hand clattered to the floor with a minty splatter. Pale hands were suddenly fisted in his shirt collar, bringing him close. Blue stared down brown. Brown stared down blue.

_“You wanna see ‘sensitive’, fucker?”_ Nathan snarled, livid. Warren returned his expression with just as much deadliness.

“You don’t scare anybody.”

Before a fight could break out between them, the bathroom door creaked open, indicating somebody else was coming in. Warren didn’t have time to see who it was before Nathan practically threw him to the side. He landed on the floor with a grunt.

“Oh, hey Nate.” Hayden greeted sluggishly. He had slippers on his feet, his eyelids flickering slowly. Either he didn’t see Warren, or he didn’t acknowledge him. “Didn’t expect to see you here so early.”  

Nathan gave a noncommittal hum in return, walking past his habitually laid-back friend and leaving the bathroom with haste. Warren saw him leave, deciding to pick himself off the wet tiles. It was then that Hayden’s eyes alighted on him.

“Ah, didn’t see you there. Wallace, right?” Hayden guessed.

“It’s Warren.” Warren corrected with a sigh, collecting his showering things. Hayden eyed him briefly before turning to the mirror.

“Coulda sworn your name was Wallace.”

“Well, it’s not. Just so you know.” Warren said.

He left it at that.

 

~

 

Returning to the privacy of his own room, Warren spent the next two hours doing virtually nothing productive on World of Warcraft before he decided to officially start his day. By now, the dorms were bustling with activity. A little too much, to Warren. He nearly got nailed by a football.

He didn’t see Nathan again during his trek out the boys’ dorm, which he was thankful for. If Hayden hadn’t showed up when he did, Warren likely would’ve ended up trading blows with Nathan, and who knows how far that would’ve gone.

Stepping down the steps that lead to the dormitory, Warren took in the sights. The morning sun shone across the campus, warm and definitely not snowing. Some people were already in their typical spots where they hung out with their friends, others heading to their morning classes. Warren’s class didn’t start for another hour, meaning he had an hour to do whatever he pleased.

He thought about calling Max again, hopefully to achieve some better insight on his nightmare. To his dismay, the phone directed him straight to voicemail all three times he called her. Warren didn’t know who else he could talk to about his nightmare without being deemed crazy.

Stella came to mind, but left just as quickly.

Even though Warren loved Stella to pieces and confided in her a lot, she could easily take the things he said and use it as her next source of gossip.

Maybe Brooke? Brooke and him talked science as often as possible, swapping theories, speculations and just generally posing questions to anything they could think of. She would have no trouble accepting what Warren said as true. Then again, she would probably ask more questions than she would give answers, and Warren desperately needed answers.

Alyssa was out of the question, as was Kate. She already had enough to deal with; Warren couldn’t bear the idea of only adding to her list of problems. The only other qualified candidate he could think of was Max, and she wasn’t answering her phone.

As much as he didn’t want to, Warren figured that he was on his own. Somehow, he was going to have to decipher his nightmare, piece by piece. As long as Max had been telling the truth about the storm, then..

...He didn’t have long.

He went to go sit down on a bench, checking his phone for some nonexistent message. But the moment he did, Warren was racked by yet another agonizing headache. Groaning, he clutched his head. Random images danced before his eyes.

_Purple hair. Book in hand, coming his way. She greets him._ Was that Alyssa?

“Hey, Warren.”

Warren snapped his head up at the voice. Sure enough, it was Alyssa, a book at her side, face stained in nonchalance.

“Oh, good morning, Alyssa.” He swallowed, trying to keep his voice from coming out higher than usual. _Do not freak out._ “What, uh..what brings you out here?” Alyssa narrowed her eyes.

“I always come out here to sit and read before class, Warren.”

_Oh, shit. Right._ She did do that. Warren mentally cursed himself.

“Sorry, I’m in your seat, aren’t I?”

“Well...yeah. I tend to sit there a lot.” Alyssa said.

“I’ll get out your way then!” Warren shot to his feet, his heart thumping like it did earlier this morning. He winced. _What the fuck was going on with him?_

Alyssa didn’t seem to notice Warren’s distress. “You can like, sit with me if you want.” Warren shook his head lightly.

“Thanks anyway, but I was going to try and find Max. I need to get some, uh, notes from her.” Not a complete lie, but Warren felt like he was going to kneel over at any second.

Alyssa shrugged and took her spot on the bench. “Okay then. Later Warren.”

Warren waved a short goodbye, prior to darting off back towards the dormitories. He jogged all the way to the boys’ bathroom, and emptied the contents of his stomach in the nearest open toilet. He knelt in front of it, holding onto the seat for dear life. Jesus, he felt like hell.

When Warren felt stable enough to get up, a burning realization hit him. Did he...did he see the future? He saw Alyssa in his vision, talking to him...then seconds later, it came true. But, that’s not possible. That kind of stuff only happened in video games and movies, not real life. But, he also saw the tornado, and so did Max. Maybe...he had powers? Sounded kinda awesome, now that he thought about it.

Another wave of pain made Warren reconsider. He sees another vision.

_He’s leaving the stall. The bathroom door slams open. Logan and Zachary. They grab him. Logan takes the first hit._

Oh fuck. Logan and Zachary, they were on their way here weren’t they? As if to answer his question, Warren heard footsteps getting closer to the door.

“You sure he came in here?” Fuck, that was Zachary’s voice.

On instinct, he ducked back down, just as the bathroom door crashed against the wall.

“Course I’m sure! I saw him run back into the dorms.” Logan. The two biggest jocks of Blackwell. The sounds of their footsteps echoed against the floor.

Zachary snorted. “Maybe he ran back to his room.”

Logan’s fist collided against the first stall. “If he did, don’t you think we would’ve seen him?”

They were checking the stalls. _Shit._

The next bathroom stall crashed open, panic welling in Warren’s gut. Clearly they were looking for him, but why? He didn’t do anything to Logan or Zachary. Unless of course they were just being assholes to be assholes. Warren couldn’t stay here, yet where else could he go? He could try running, but they’d probably catch him before he reached the door.

Next stall opened. That left only two more before they got to Warren’s stall, then, he was screwed.

_Slam._

Why couldn’t they just leave?

_Slam._

Shit, shit, shit, shit―

“Bro, hold up.” The door remained closed.

“What is it?” Logan questioned impatiently to Zachary. He was literal seconds away from opening the next stall, Warren’s heart in his throat. Zachary held up his phone.

“Just got a text from Nathan. Says he needs to talk to us about the next Vortex Club party.”

There is a god.

“What?” Logan exclaimed angrily. “But we have to find this fucking nerd first. Remind him who’s the boss.”

“This is _Nathan_ we’re talking about, bro. I’m not about to have him on my case just because you wanted to find Graham.” Zachary said. He typed out a quick response, stuffing his phone in his front pocket. He headed over to the door. “Come on, let’s go. He’s not even here.”

Logan scowled in disapproval, but relented. He followed Zachary out, complaining along the way. Warren didn’t move a limb until he was sure they were long gone. He clambered cautiously out the stall, standing up with a little trouble. His legs felt wobbly from being so stiff, but Warren managed to make his way back to his dorm room with relative ease. (Not counting the three times he nearly tripped.)

He was still in dumbfoundment. The vision. Just like he saw, Logan and Zachary came in here, but this time, he didn’t get beat up. _How was that possible?_ Did he stray away from harm by heeding his vision? Or, maybe it was just pure happenstance?

As his mind began whirring with theories, his phone dinged in his pocket. Warren whipped it out, checking the message. It was from Stella.

 

**_[Stellar Stel, Today at 8:42 A.M.]_ **

_Class hasn’t even started yet and I’m already bored._

 

Warren smiled in amusement. Typical Stella.

He wrote a reply.

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 8:43 A.M.]_**

_Sounds like a personal problem. You’re always bashing on Calculus._

 

Stella answered in moments.

 

**_[Stellar Stel, Today at 8:43 A.M.]_ **

_And for good reason. I don’t see how a teacher could make Calculus any more boring then it already is._

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 8:44 A.M.]_**

_*than_

 

**_[Stellar Stel, Today at 8:44 A.M.]_ **

_Oh, so you’re a grammar warden now?_

 

**_[Stellar Stel, Today at 8:45 A.M.]_ **

_Or should I say, grammar WARREN??_

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 8:45 A.M.]_**

_Wow, and I thought my puns were awful._

 

**_[Stellar Stel, Today at 8:45 A.M.]_ **

_Your puns are literally the worse thing ever_

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 8:46 A.M.]_**

_Ouch. You wound me._

 

**_[Stellar Stel, Today at 8:46 A.M.]_ **

_You’ll live. Anyway, I haven’t eaten breakfast yet._

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 8:46 A.M.]_**

_Okay?? Neither have I._

 

**_[Stellar Stel, Today at 8:47 A.M.]_ **

_Okay, so get breakfast with me at the Two Whales._

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 8:47 A.M.]_**

_Stella, class starts in less than 15 minutes._

 

**_[Stellar Stel, Today at 8:47 A.M.]_ **

_I meant after class, dummy._

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 8:48 A.M.]_**

_Oh. I knew that._

 

**_[Stellar Stel, Today at 8:48 A.M.]_ **

_Sure you did, science guy_

 

**_[Stellar Stel, Today at 8:49 A.M.]_ **

_I’ll pay for the both of us._

 

**_[Stellar Stel, Today at 8:50 A.M.]_ **

_So what do you say?_

 

Warren couldn’t lie, the thought of having a delicious belgian waffle with a side of golden hash browns and extra crispy bacon at the Two Whales sounded like pure bliss. Best part, he wouldn’t even be paying for it.

Sighing in defeat, he typed out an answer.

 

**_[Me, Today_** **_at 8:51 A.M.]_**

_Alright, I’m convinced. Meet me in the parking lot after class._

 

**_[Stellar Stel, Today at 8:51 A.M.]_ **

_Will do_ ;)

 

Warren smiled slightly and left his dorm, headed to his class. Maybe a nice breakfast would take his mind off his nightmare and visions for the time being.

_Maybe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter should finally kick this story into full gear, and the Grahamscott will happen soon. I assure you. :)


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, almost 4 weeks since my last update. Sorry readers. Hope this 8k will make it up to you guys. This chapter is in Nathan's perspective this time, woop.

He awoke to the sound of whale noises delicately filling his ears. Eyes still closed, Nathan plucked the earbuds out his ears, prior to sitting up with a sigh. He pressed a fist against the bridge of his nose.

God, he was still so fucking tired.

He didn’t know why he had hoped that when he went to sleep last night, he would’ve obtained more than the measly 6 hours of sleep his body forced him to run on on a daily basis. If anything, it seemed he got even less sleep than usual. Even worse thing about it, once Nathan was up, he was up. At least until he crashed again, then the cruel cycle repeated.

“Fuck..” Nathan groaned.

Running his fingers through his hair, Nathan pulled the sheets off his too warm body and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He sat there for a second, pondering his next choice of action before reaching for the phone on the nightstand. As he did so, his vision inevitably darted to the broken lamp that rested there, serving as a reminder of his recent fuck up with Chloe. He really had to throw it out sometime.

Narrowing his eyes at the light of his phone, Nathan managed to make out the time.

**_5:37 A.M._ **

Fan-fucking-tastic. That was way too early to even consider getting up, but Nathan could already feel himself adjust to being wide awake. Sleep was a distant memory. Grumbling in vexation, Nathan creakily got out of bed and made his way over to the closet. The only good aspect he found about being up so prematurely was the availability of the showers. Nobody else but him would be in there, just as it should be.

If there was anything that pissed Nathan off more than people telling him what to do, it was having to share the showers with nearly 10 other guys.

With his shower caddy in hand, Nathan eased open the door and tiptoed to the showers. He didn't know exactly why he was being furtive about it. It wasn’t like anybody would be awake to hear him, nor should they even care. Regardless though, Nathan didn’t relax until he reached the sanctity of the shower room.

The sound of running water and dull steam touching his skin made him tense back up just as quickly.

Who the hell else would be up _this_ early? Nathan couldn’t think of anybody else who would get up remotely this early, except for Hayden. But even then, Hayden didn’t get up until around 6 or so, so it couldn’t be him. Huffing in dismay, Nathan drifted over to the sink, toothbrush between his fingers.

A quick check under his arms deemed it safe to put off his shower until tomorrow. Still, Nathan couldn’t help but feel pissed off by the presence of the unwanted occupant. Eventually, his anger drifts elsewhere. Specifically, to a certain nosy brunette.

Caulfield. She had been in the bathroom yesterday hadn’t she? There was nobody else in this school who took shitty polaroids except for her. The picture of that hauntingly blue butterfly had caught his eye; the style in which it was taken had instantly reminded him of all the times he had sat and listened to Victoria rant about her.

Thus, the hunt began.

Nathan didn’t want to imagine the things she must’ve overheard during his showdown with Chloe. But, she had to have heard every syllable, for nobody else had came in there the entire time, meaning that she had to have already been hiding out in there before either him or Chloe even arrived on scene. Though that pixie hipster bitch shouldn’t have even been there in the first place, Nathan was secretly relieved that she pulled the fire alarm when she did. In that moment, he could feel a tremor begin to worm its way down his arm. A second too late and it would’ve reached his hand, out coming the bullet.

Caulfield may have prevented him from doing something he would’ve regretted, but the last thing Nathan wanted was to provide Chloe all the more incentive to blackmail him. He already fucked up beforehand with her, which was why he was in this damn situation in the first place. A simple DIY photoshoot gone wrong, and suddenly Nathan found himself on the peak of Chloe’s shit list.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, now he completely screwed himself over by having nearly killed that blue haired dyke with Caulfield being witness to it.

Nathan had meant to threaten her about it yesterday just so she would keep her mouth shut. But, lo and behold, she was nowhere to be found after the fact. Nathan had resorted to asking around to retrieve Max’s whereabouts. Some people were easily compliant, others were more resistant and skeptical, much to Nathan’s annoyance. His patience had mounted after coming face to face with the nerd. His anger had inundated his reasoning, and in his rage, he ended up beating the shit out of him.

A few cigarettes later, Nathan resumed his search, stumbling across the posse of skater wannabes. At his arrival, most of them tensed up, a sight that pleased Nathan immensely. They had every right to be scared of him.

Justin, or whateverthefuck his name was, basically told him in differentiating words to fuck off. Nathan, of course, didn’t take too kindly to that. After tossing out a few unsavory sentences of his own, Justin informed him that Max had taken a bus out of Blackwell sometime ago.

Clearly she was smart enough to realize that Nathan was on a warpath for her and deemed it best to avoid confrontation. But, she wasn’t smart enough to realize that she had to return sooner or later (if she valued her scholarship that is), and when she did…

Nathan would make her wish she never even entered the girls’ bathroom that day.

He was so deep in his acerbic notions that he didn’t notice that the shower faucet had been turned off. Not until he looked up and saw Warren standing behind him, hair wet and face flushed. A surge of hate immediately shot through him. He spat out the rinse in his mouth and addressed the other boy.

“What the hell are you looking at, _Gayram?”_

Nathan relished in the offended expression that fell upon Warren’s face, even it was only momentarily.

“Not you, Prickscott. Don’t flatter yourself.” He said. Nathan released a bitter laugh. _This nerd had no idea who he was talking to._

“Early morning or not, I will gladly kick your ass again.”

Warren seemed unaffected by the threat; he rolled his eyes, more focused on what he was doing at the sink. “Whatever you say, Prescott.” He brushed off. “I’ve seen puppies scarier than you.”

Nathan’s form stiffened. After regaining his composure, he ground out, _“What the fuck did you just say, Graham?”_

Warren laid a hand over his heart in faux surprise. “Wow, you _actually_ said my last name right. I’m honored.”

Nathan resisted the urge to punch him right then and there; he came closer. “I’m warning you, bitch. I’ll paint this entire bathroom in your own goddamn blood.”

“I’m just sayin’. You calling me by my actual last name is a rarity.”

“You’re about to become a rarity if you don’t shut the fuck up.” Nathan sibilated. He was satisfied when Warren appeared to finally take that as a sign to back off. He turned away, returning to his sink activity, but not before opening his mouth again.

“Didn’t take you as the sensitive type, Nathan.”

In an instant, Nathan was beside Warren, forcefully pushing him up against the sink. His bruised fists seized his shirt collar, not caring for the way the fabric tore under his hold.

_“You wanna see ‘sensitive’, fucker?”_ Nathan asked with unbridled poison. Who the hell did this guy think he was talking to him like that? He was Nathan fucking Prescott. _Nobody_ fucked with him and walked away unscathed.

“You don’t scare anybody.” Warren challenged.

Just before Nathan could launch a well placed punch, he heard the bathroom door squeak open, a figure moving out his peripheral vision. Dropping his assault, Nathan hurled Warren to the ground before facing the newly denizen. A slight sense of relief filled him when he saw it was only Hayden.

“Oh, hey Nate. Didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

Nathan collected his things in record time. He stalked past Hayden, but offered a small hum in greeting on his way out.

So much for a fucking shower.

 

~

 

Nathan didn’t bother to monitor the volume of his steps. He stomped back to his room, carelessly tossing his shower caddy in some random corner the second he walked in.

What a shitty way to start off the morning, and all because of that bitch nerd. If Nathan had half a mind, he would go right back in there and beat the shit out of him. Again. The thought was tempting enough.

...Only to be destroyed by the sound of his phone rumbling on the nightstand. When Nathan turned and saw exactly which phone was ringing, his stomach dropped.

_Shit._

It was his private phone: the one he used to talk to Jefferson and occasionally Frank whenever he needed to score some drugs. Looking at the caller I.D., Nathan surmised that his morning had officially become the worst.

He unwillingly hit the answer button and drew the phone up to ear level.

“Yo.” Nathan said as casually as he could.

_“Why did it take you so long to answer?”_

_Would it fucking kill you to say hello?_ Nathan thought sourly, looking at the screen in distaste. Even though he knew damn well that when it came to Mark Jefferson, it was everything but _cordial._ He responded, “Didn’t hear it ringing.”

Jefferson didn’t seem the least bit pleased by his answer. _“You didn’t hear it the 4 times I called?”_

“I was in the showers.”

_“How quaint.”_ Nathan absolutely hated the condescending tone in the man’s voice. Ever since he had first met him, Jefferson always carried that aura of superiority around him, meticulously diluted by his charm. Nearly everybody who was anybody at this school had expressed some kind of respect or admiration for the infamous Mark Jefferson. Nathan, unfortunately, was lobbed in with that crowd.

As a starry-eyed, impressionable freshman, all it took for Nathan to fall into the photographer’s clutches was a few honeyed words and well thought out compliments. Like a dumbass puppy, he did nearly anything Jefferson said without stopping to give so much as a second thought. If only he had known then what he knew now, maybe he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

_“I reviewed more of the submissions for the contest.”_ Jefferson said, changing the topic. Nathan sat on the bed, still in his nightwear, and listened intently.

“And? What about them?” He asked.

_“It’s come to my attention that most of these entries are...well, to put it quite bluntly, atrocious.”_

A cruel smirk curled on Nathan’s lips. “Talk about heartless.”

_“There’s a distinct difference between being heartless, and being brutally honest.”_ Jefferson easily defended. _“I consider myself in the perfect grey area.”_

Nathan snorted. _Sure._ “So who haven’t you reamed then?”

_“It’s hard to select an entry that doesn’t revolve around some mundane subject. They either lack substance, or they’re just plain poor images.”_

“All of them?” Nathan catechized.

_“Essentially, yes.”_

“Huh.” That information was both a comfort, and an attack to Nathan.

He knew that Victoria had entered in the contest, despite his subtle attempts at trying to sway her from doing so. Knowing Jefferson, he likely had already seen her entry and deemed it unfit to his liking, just like the other photos. That, or he didn’t see it yet, which was highly unlikely. Despite being a freak about detail, spending hours at a time picking apart each element, Mark never left anything unturned.

Nathan knew from all the times he spent with him developing pictures in the dark room. He would be long gone, the sterile walls and blood red binders prohibiting him from staying there a moment longer, but Jefferson would continue to remain until all work was completed; a feat that as much as Nathan hated to admit, impressed him.

He clicked his tongue in consideration. “Does that mean you’re gonna cancel the contest or something?” _Yeah, right._

_“I’m not taking any brash courses of action just yet.”_ Jefferson quickly stated. _“After all, there is one photo that holds some merit.”_

Nathan’s stomach clenched. He raised up, now at full alert. “Yeah?”

_“Indeed. Despite the blatantly contrived intentions, there seems to be a photographer who actually has a grasp on expertise.”_

“And who’s that?” Nathan asked warily, fearing the answer.

_“Victoria Chase.”_

Oh, fuck no.

_“Even though I was doubtful at first,”_ Jefferson continued at Nathan’s silence. _“I realize that Miss Chase managed to capture some of the vital components I seek in a photo. Lighting, juxtapose, emphasis on subject matter…”_ Nathan gradually tuned him out.

Hearing that Jefferson was expressing interest in Victoria made icy cold unsettlement form in his chest. It wasn’t that he doubted Victoria’s photographic capabilities, far from it actually. Nathan adored Victoria and desired for her the very best the world had to offer. But, there was no way in hell he was letting her be alone in San Francisco with Mark Jefferson of all people. With nobody around, namely Nathan, to shield her from Mark's ulterior motives, Victoria was as helpless as a fucking newborn.

Hurting her chances of winning was the only way Nathan could save her from Mark. It physically pained him to do so, as he knew how much Victoria idolized him. Being the reason why she didn’t achieve her goal was just about as bad as him sticking a knife in her back. Unfortunately, it had to be done. Nathan just wished he didn’t have to be the one to do it.

_“...their naiveté crudely stripped from them.”_ Jefferson rambled on, Nathan not having the patience to listen. He knew it had something to do with purity and innocence, as he put it. The guy was practically fucking obsessed about it.

“You should keep looking.”

_“Oh?”_ Mark sounded genuinely surprised. _“Any particular reason why?”_

“I know Victoria, and I’ve seen her work. It’s mediocre at best.” _Sorry, Vic._ “I know there’s way better photographers you can choose from.”

A low, rumbling hum came from the other end; Jefferson was considering it.

_“You know, I suppose you’re actually correct, Nathan.”_ He assented. _“Upon further inspection, the amount of fallacies compared to achievements is much too great to ignore.”_

Nathan nodded along to what he was saying. He felt like an asshole, that much was certain, but at least Victoria wouldn’t be in harm’s way.

_“I have somebody else in mind, but unfortunately, she hasn’t submitted a photo yet.”_

“Who’s the bimbo?”

_“Max Caulfield.”_ Came Jefferson’s brusque correction. _“She’s one of my students. Quite introverted and modest, though her work is undoubtedly special.”_

Oh great. Max Caulfield, that nosy bitch. It was only Nathan’s luck that Mark would be lusting after her. Still, he’d take Max over Victoria any day. He asked, “If she didn’t submit a photo, how the fuck are you supposed to get her?”

_“Alternatives, Nathan. If I can’t personally retrieve her myself, then we look to different sources.”_ Mark explained. _“Max may be incredibly shy, to the point where it’s almost deterring, but she does have friends. Friends who are much closer to her than you or I could ever be without seeming questionable.”_

Nathan didn’t like the way that sounded. “So..you’re saying..?”

_“You need to become acquainted with one of Max’s friends.”_

“There’s no fucking way I’m going to―”

_“Or I’ll gladly take Victoria with me to San Francisco.”_ Jefferson countered. The objection swiftly died in his throat.

_“Thought so. You_ **_will_ ** _help me get to Miss Caulfield, otherwise you’re going to have innocent blood on your hands.”_

Nathan didn’t say anything even as the phone clicked and beeped in his ear, signaling the end of the phone call and plunging him in silence.

 

~

 

It took all he had in him to will himself off the bed and head to the closet to get dressed. Everything felt like a hassle, from pulling his signature red jacket over his shoulders, to styling his hair in its typical slicked back manner. All Nathan could think about was Jefferson and his ultimatum. If everybody were to know about the kinds of things that he did, his father would disown him for sure.

He was already on thin ice with him after the shitshow that took place the last time he was requested for a family visit. It was just supposed to be a nice, non convoluted dinner. It started off pleasant enough. His father asked him questions, and Nathan gave answers that he knew would satiate him. All had been going relatively well.

Nathan wasn’t sure exactly what he said wrong, but in the blink of an eye, his father’s entire demeanor changed. It was only because Nathan had reacted quickly that he avoided the incoming fist.

He hadn’t been home since then, and he had no intentions on going back anytime soon.

Outside his door, Nathan could hear the sounds of other dorm inhabitants rousing for the upcoming day. Whipping out his regular phone to check the time, Nathan’s gaze caught the newly text from Victoria.

 

**_[Vic, Today at 8:11 A.M.]_ **

 

_Gm, Nate. Hope you slept well._

 

Nathan smiled lightly, already in the midst of responding. Victoria was literally the only person he knew who could regularly succeed in cheering him up. Hayden was a close second, but without any kind of dope in his system, he was shit at consoling.

 

**_[Me, Today at 8:12 A.M.]_ **

 

_i slept ok_

 

**_[Me, Today at 8:12 A.M.]_ **

 

_what abt u?_

 

Victoria responded without delay.

 

**_[Vic, Today at 8:13 A.M.]_ **

 

_Like shit. I couldn’t stop thinking about my entry._

 

**_[Me, Today at 8:13 A.M.]_ **

 

_vic, dont wrry abt it. you hav a bttr chance then any1 I kno_

 

**_[Vic, Today at 8:13 A.M.]_ **

 

_I just hope you’re right, Nate._

 

Nathan thought about leaving the conversation there, guilt suddenly ebbing away at him. However, Victoria sent him another message before he had the chance to go about it.

 

**_[Vic, Today at 8:14 A.M.]_ **

 

_Theres a couple things I want to talk about for the party tho. It’s important._

 

**_[Me, Today at 8:14 A.M.]_ **

 

_How importnt we talkn?_

 

**_[Vic, Today at 8:15 A.M.]_ **

 

_Important enough that the others have to hear about it too._

 

Well shit. That _was_ important. Nathan typed out a text.

 

**_[Me, Today at 8:16 A.M.]_ **

 

_O k_

 

**_[Me, Today at 8:16 A.M.]_ **

 

_but were not havin it in my room_

 

**_[Vic, Today at 8:16 A.M.]_ **

 

_Please, Nate? My room is a mess._

 

**_[Me, Today at 8:17 A.M.]_ **

 

_so? nt like ur tryin to imprss them_

 

**_[Me, Today at 8:17 A.M.]_ **

 

_Who gives a shit what they thnk?_

 

**_[Vic, Today at 8:18 A.M.]_ **

 

_Nate. Please?_

 

Nathan’s resolve was crumbling. He hated anybody going in his room, with the exception of Victoria and Hayden. Just the idea of having more than one other human body in his private space of comfort made him shift uncomfortably. Still, he was already soiling Victoria’s chances of winning the contest anyway. He supposed the least he could do was adhere to this one request.

 

**_[Me, Today at 8:19 A.M.]_ **

 

_Fine_

 

**_[Vic, Today at 8:19 A.M.]_ **

 

_You’re the best. :*_

 

**_[Me, Today at 8:20 A.M.]_ **

 

_whatthefuckever_

 

~

 

The first thing Victoria did upon entering his room, much to Nathan’s annoyance, was immediately cross over to the blinds and pull them both wide open.

Sunlight eagerly made a new residence in the previously off putting atmosphere. Since Nathan’s room tended to be devoured by shadows most of the time, the soft rays roving inward created a nice change of ambience. It was welcoming. Pleased, Victoria smoothed out her skirt and pivoted on her heel to sit down, sighing when she saw the glare her best friend was giving her.

“Come on, Nathan.” She implored, gesturing outside. “It’s a nice morning, you don’t have to have the blinds closed like that. Makes it all dark and depressing.”

Nathan grumbled and deposited himself on the precipice of his bed. “Maybe I like it that way.”

“Well, I don’t.” Victoria said. “Besides, it looks fine.”

“Yeah, to you.” Nathan exhaled and let his head fall back into the duvet. “Makes me feel exposed.”

He heard a small giggle come from the blonde a few feet away from him, soliciting his attention. He narrowed his eyes at her over his chest.

“Nathan Joshua Prescott is feeling self-conscious? Wow, the world must be ending.” Victoria teased. Nathan sat up on his palms, his leg bouncing up and down.

_“Please,_ like that shit’s ever gonna happen.”

“It could.” Victoria shrugged.

“Vic, you know fully well that I couldn’t care less about what people thought of me.”

“Wish I could say the same thing about Max.” Victoria rolled her eyes. “Little Miss ‘Oh, hi, I’m Max Caulfield and I’m so sensitive that butterflies make me cry’.” Nathan released a high pitched cackle at her fairly accurate interpretation of Max’s voice.

“You should’ve seen her yesterday in Jefferson’s class.” Victoria went on. “She _actually_ had the nerve to take a selfie during Jefferson’s lecture, and she thought he wasn’t going to call her out for it.”

Nathan shook his head in disbelief. “Broad’s stupider than I originally thought.”

“Thing is, she couldn’t even answer his question. The answer was so obvious too, and Mark just laid into her. I, of course, actually knew my material and provided the answer.” Victoria boasted, arms crossed.

“It’s a fucking wonder how she even managed to get into a school like this with her crappy selfies.” Nathan commented.

“Right? It’s like Blackwell accepts _any_ talentless loser nowadays.”

“That’s Blackwell for you.”

Just then, two somewhat provisional knocks sounded on the door. Nathan opened his mouth to call whoever it was inside, but Victoria beat him to it.

“Get in here!” She shouted. The door squeaked open to reveal the embarrassed faces of Courtney and Taylor. The former closed the door while Taylor mechanically made her way over to sit next to Victoria on the couch. Acknowledging the lack of additional space, Courtney made the gesture to go sit next to Nathan. However, she quickly saw the look on his face that said, ‘Don’t even think about it.’, and opted for standing.

“Hey, Victoria―” Taylor started, but Victoria interrupted her.

“What the hell took so long?” She demanded. “I texted you guys like 20 minutes ago.”

Courtney spoke up. “Sorry, Victoria, we were just―”

“You were just being useless as usual. Glad to know that if I had to rely on you guys during a life or death situation, I’d be dead already.” Victoria ruthlessly chastened, leaving them no room to give excuses. Nathan watched the display with an amused smirk.

Hayden arrived soon after, not bothering to the close the door all the way. As he laid down onto the bed with a lazy sigh, the scent of narcotics entered Nathan’s nose.

“Couldn’t wait to get blazed, huh?” He grinned. Hayden’s glossy eyes turned to him indolently.

“I’m much more useful high than sober, man.” He said, his smooth voice perfectly layered with intemperance. Nathan couldn’t argue with that. The few times when Hayden was void of a narcotic during their Vortex Club meetings, he didn’t offer much input at all. Even when he was ousted into the spotlight by another member, he would basically ramble on about something extraneous before passing the torch onto somebody else. Yeah, high Hayden was much better.

Trampling outside his door and Nathan instantly knew the jocks were in range. Sure enough, the two large figures of Logan and Zachary entered, and Nathan cringed at the unholy odor of sweat that accompanied them.

“Sup, bros.” Zachary greeted.

Nathan tilted his head upwards curtly. “Yo.”

Zachary claimed the seat at the desk, while Logan chose to lean against it, brawny arms crossed over his chest. Nathan noted his reclusive stance, though he didn’t comment on it. The last people to arrive were Dana and Juliet. Dana took her place at the foot of the bed while Juliet stood near the door, trying not to look at Zachary. It was clear there was tension there, but nobody looked like they wanted to address it. Once everybody was settled in, Victoria seized the floor.

“So we all know that the upcoming party is going to be taking place at the pool, correct?” She asked. Mostly everybody gave some form of confirmation, prompting Victoria to proceed.

“Not only that, but we also know that the winner of the Everyday Heroes contest is going to be announced as well. By Mr. Jefferson himself.”

“Your point?” Juliet asked, already exasperated. Victoria shot her a dirty look.

_“My point,_ Juliet, is that this party has to be one to remember. It can’t just be any lame party. It goes without saying that appropriate mood lighting and decor is a must. But, we have to do something that really makes this party memorable. So, anybody have any ideas?”

Nathan knew that the only reason why Victoria was so dedicated to this party was because Mark was going to be there to disclose the winner. If he wasn’t the one doing so, Victoria wouldn’t give two shits.

Nobody volunteered right away, until a gratuitous sigh drew their attention. Dana stood up.

“Well, the theme of the party is the end of the world, isn’t it?” She looked around, seeing other members nod. “What if we had the pool water look all bloody red?”

“How would we do that?” Courtney asked.

“Simple. You just dye it, kinda like food coloring. And I happen to know where we can get a crap load of dye from.” Dana smiled.

“Can’t lie, that does sound pretty sick.” Zachary agreed.

“Not a bad idea, _chérie.”_ Victoria smirked in approval at Dana, who returned it half-heartedly. She took out her phone, presumably to record down ideas. “Anything else?”

“How about holograms?” Taylor suggested. Victoria raised an immaculate eyebrow at her.

“Holograms?”

“Yeah, we could make it look like things are on fire. They use holograms at concerts and stuff.” Taylor explained.

Victoria looked dubious, but she noted it anyway. “What about for lighting?” She questioned next.

“Definitely gotta have red lights for a red pool.” Hayden answered.

Victoria typed that in as well, prior to putting her phone away.

“These are all pretty good ideas. Mostly.”

Nathan snorted.

“I think this party is going to be―actually, I _know_ this party is going to be one to die for. Probably the best one we’ll have all year.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “Fantastic. Are we done here?” She questioned irritably.

Victoria crossed her legs, still as dignified as ever. “Yes, _you’re_ done here. _Au revoir.”_ Juliet didn’t need to be told twice. Turning on her heel, she left the room in a huff. Zachary almost looked like he wanted to chase after her, though he stayed put.

_“Carrying on.”_ Victoria dismissed. “This party has to be the very best we can put together. After all, making memories is crucial this time of year. College isn’t that far away now.” She then looked over at Nathan and nodded.

“Alright, meeting’s over.” He announced. “Get the fuck out of my room.”

 

~

 

Nathan didn’t feel like going to his English class, nowhere near in the mood to sit and listen to a teacher prattle on and on about shit that he didn’t care about. It at least gave him some time to ruminate on what Jefferson said to him. Not that he didn’t spend nearly 2 hours during that earlier. Victoria offered to skip with him, but Nathan declined. He just wanted to be alone for a bit, trying to rid himself of the guilt and anxiety he felt. His medicine didn’t do anything to ease it, so Nathan resorted to the next thing.

The lighthouse.

He hopped in his truck and rode through the town to the lighthouse, stopping right before the hill. He regularly escaped there whenever he felt like his troubles were suffocating him. Up here, gazing over the entirety of the Bay, Nathan could breathe. His thoughts actually maintained some cohesiveness where they would otherwise be falling apart before him.

Sighing, he reached into his pocket and brandished a cigarette. He placed it between his lips and brought out his lighter to ignite it. The ashy flavor touched his tongue, and Nathan relished in the taste.

For some reason, he thought of Rachel.

Maybe it was the long since burnt out residue of fire, empty bottles, and crushed cigarettes on the ground that reminded him of her. Of the days and nights when they would just hang out in the back of his truck, blazed, giggly and exchanging words they couldn’t recall by the time morning rolled around. She actually listened to him and his problems, despite having every right to drop him on his ass and deal with it himself. Rachel made him feel like less of a fuck up.

Nathan missed feeling that carefree.

More importantly, he missed Rachel.

He didn’t know what happened to her. Ever since the night she had been in the Dark Room, Nathan hadn’t seen or heard from her. He blamed it on the fuzzy memory that came with that particular night and it wasn’t like Jefferson was offering to fill in the blanks.

Worst case scenarios tortured him constantly, but Nathan kept trying to remain optimistic that Rachel just left to Los Angeles like she always wanted.

Nathan often wished he could just go back home to Florida himself; to leave all this shit behind him and attempt to start a new life. He could live away from other people, take up some profession.

..Hell, maybe even get a dog.

Yet as peaceful as that sounded, he was rooted to this damned place. His father’s never ending reminders of the shitty legacy he’s supposed to carry on making sure of that. According to him, Nathan was supposed to major in business, find some random bimbo to marry, have a kid or two, and then spend the rest of his days being some miserable real-estate manufacturer. Kristine was lucky. She fucking flew the coop before his father had had the chance to shove an artificial life down her throat. Unfortunately, that meant all her responsibilities had been dumped on him.

Nathan loved his sister, but sometimes he couldn’t help but resent her for leaving.

It was the same thing with Rachel. She had to have known how much she meant to him, yet she didn’t think it was meaningful enough to stay. If she did truly leave, that was. Rachel always did keep people on a short leash. They would get close, maybe even start to feel something for her, and then once she was tired of it, she moved onto someone else. For a minute, Nathan had thought he was the exception.

It was just another falsified dream.

Animosity aside, Nathan yearned for her presence again. Anywhere she went, Rachel left this trail of rebellion with her. Nathan followed that trail sometimes, only to find that at the end, Rachel wasn’t as perfect as he originally thought. She had problems too. Not nearly as extensive as his own, but still significant enough that she had reduced to hiding it from others, including him.

After Rachel left, Victoria took to his side.

She tried to fill that space that was left vacant by Rachel, and though it wasn’t the same, Nathan appreciated it nonetheless. She would sit and listen to his problems and give him some advice, comfort him after a particularly shitty meeting with his father, keep him going when he couldn’t himself―

Eventually, Victoria helped him forget about Rachel, and Nathan stopped hurting a little less.

Now all the pain came back full force, the cigarette in his mouth making him sick. Angrily, Nathan tossed it on the ground, crushing it under his heel just like he wished he could crush everything else that caused him grief. His frustration only grew. Memories surfaced.

_Nathan, do you ever wish sometimes you could just...run away?_

He didn’t want to remember her.

_All the time. My fucking dad would probably track me down, though._

Not after he spent so long trying to forget.

_Why do you ask?_

Yet her face was vivid in his mind’s eye.

_..I just...nevermind. I’ll tell you someday._

He needed to punch something.

_You’re not thinking of running away, are you?_

Now.

_It’s complicated._

Rachel.

_Don't be surprised if one day I'm just out of here. For good._

_CRACK._

The pain came at once. Lifting up his fist, Nathan eyed the horrid bruise forming right on the indent of his knuckles. He gritted his teeth at the agony he felt, but at least he couldn’t see or hear her anymore.

He observed the object he hit.

Apparently it was some kind of map of the town, evidently aged based off the worn paper. He could see Blackwell, the Two Whales, and various other landmarks.

In the top left corner, there was a single red skull.

 

~

 

Sometime later, after he came down from his mini meltdown, Nathan became aware of one thing.

He was fucking _famished._

A meal at the Two Whales could easily remedy that, though Nathan was hesitant about going there. He knew from experience that the diner was considerably packed during the mornings, especially around this time. He personally preferred eating during the evenings, where it was quiet and only a few other people were at the booths or stools. But the painful twisting and churning of his empty stomach told him he couldn’t wait that long. So he hopped in his truck and drove downtown to the Two Whales.

In about a few minutes, Nathan was pulling into the parking lot, already in the process of deciding his breakfast. His parking was rather haphazard, his truck taking up two spaces as a result. As he got out, Nathan caught the fisherman standing at his booth bestow him a disapproving glare. However, his hunger prevented him from giving a shit.

Out the corner of his eye, Nathan spotted a blue monstrosity parked adjacent to his own truck. He grimaced at its outward appearance. The paint was chipped and peeling, the passenger’s side mirror was hanging off, the only thing keeping it from completely breaking away being the crude tape job, and one of the tires looked flat.

Honestly, Nathan pitied whoever drove that thing, it was the biggest pile of junk he had seen in awhile.

Nathan was just about the enter the diner, when the fisherman suddenly called out to him.

“Hey, kid. Wait up a sec.”

Nathan wanted to ignore the guy, his growling stomach getting louder by the second. For some reason, he stupidly turned around and took a few steps towards him.

“What do you want?” Aggressively, he asked. The fisherman didn’t seem bothered by his hostility. Instead, he scanned Nathan from head to toe, expression unchanged, making the teen reasonably uncomfortable.

_“What?”_

The man ceased his examination and leveled his eyes. “You’re the Prescotts’ boy aren’t you?” He asked. Nathan didn’t like the accusatory tone in his voice. 

“What the fuck is it to you?”

The fisherman lowered his brows, leaning on the booth heavily. “Your family is ruining this town.” He stated plainly. “Can’t even go out to fish like I used to.”

Nathan’s defensive posture immediately melted into one of indignation.

“That’s not my problem, asshole. Nobody told you to stay in this shitty fucking town anyway.” With that, he swiveled around his booth and headed to the diner, trampling up the steps. All he came here for was some damn breakfast, not to sit and hear this guy’s fucking sob story. Besides, this town was a hellhole anyway.

Just before walking inside, Nathan picked up the traces of the man’s final words.

_“The Prescotts are gonna get theirs.”_

 

~

 

The Two Whales was just as busy as he anticipated.

Truckers and cops occupied the seats by the numbers, scraping eagerly at their plates or sipping at their mugs, eyes glued to the tv screen. There were other people at the booths, fewer in numbers, but there regardless.

Nathan naturally made a left to go take a seat at his regular booth, only to see that a brunette had already taken it. His back was towards him, evidently waiting for someone. Nathan bitterly settled for taking the booth two places down. The menu was laid face down in front of him, but Nathan didn’t even bother with it. He had his usual order memorized by heart. As he sat, Nathan rubbed tenderly at the mark on his knuckles, wincing. It hurt to even flex his fingers.

“Well if it isn’t one of my favorite customers?”

He knew that voice anywhere. Nathan looked over and smiled politely at Joyce. “Hey, Joyce. How are you?” Joyce was one of the very few people who didn’t treat him like the scum of the earth just because he was a Prescott. It honestly startled him the first time around, having anticipated a fiery reaction at his presence, though he soon became comfortable and the Two Whales became one of his favorite places in this town.

Joyce chuckled, “I’m gettin’ by. Admittedly, I’m a little happier now than I was just a few hours ago.”

“Why’s that?”

“My daughter’s finally reconciled with her childhood best friend. She hasn’t seen her in almost five years.”

“That’s great.” Nathan said genuinely.

Joyce nodded her head, setting a mug down before him. “It’s a blessing in disguise too. Lord knows my daughter’s been needing a friend again.”

“She’s much happier now, I take it?” Nathan inquired. He watched as Joyce poured freshly brewed coffee into the mug, prior to adding cream and sugar into it.

“Mostly.” She answered. “Of course, she’s still a little upset, but she’s coming around. She always does.”

Nathan took a sip from his warm drink. It washed away the lingering taste of cigarette ash off his tongue, and left him feeling much better. He sighed and gave Joyce a small, grateful smile.

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“Of course, honey.” Joyce replied. She leaned into her hip. “Now what do you want for breakfast? Like I don’t already know.”

Nathan pretended to think about the question, acting like he didn’t know what he wanted. He shrugged.

“Not sure. Guess you’ll just have to surprise me.”

Joyce smirked at Nathan, going along with his act. “I know _just_ the thing. You wait right there.” She told him, disappearing behind the counter.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Nathan said.

He took another sip of coffee, savoring its taste and aroma. He wouldn’t admit it, but Nathan actually felt..relaxed for once. Nobody was pestering him for anything, nor did he have to be anywhere at the moment. Not to mention the relatively hushed soundtrack of the diner was calming to Nathan.

If only he could be like this forever.

_“Is that who I think it is?”_ Nathan heard somebody poorly whisper behind him. His peaceful reverie was shattered in that moment, replaced by vexation.

_“Oh my god, I think it is.”_ The girl fervently carried on. _“Warren, you see him right?”_

_“Trying not to..”_

Nathan could practically feel their eyes burning in the back of his skull. Patience diminished, Nathan whirled around in his seat. Wide brown eyes met his own blue eyes.

_“Graham?”_ Nathan seethed. Oh great. The one time he decided to eat breakfast at the Two Whales, this fucking nerd was here too.

“What are you doing here?” Warren asked.

Nathan rolled his eyes. “Getting breakfast, what the fuck does it look like?”

The girl spoke up. “Nathan Prescott at the Two Whales of all places? Didn’t know you ate with us commoners.”

“It’s none of your business where the hell I eat, bitch.”

Warren interjected, “Dude, chill. We’re just here to eat like everybody else, right Stella?”

The girl, Stella, pursed her lips together. “I just want to know why a Prescott would be spending time in a lowly place like this. He’s got money to eat in some place _waaay_ fancier, doesn’t he?”

Nathan could feel his anger from before return. This four eyed bitch had some nerve to be talking to him like that. “You better shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.” 

“Or what?” Stella countered. She looked all too smug for Nathan’s liking. _Oh,_ how he wanted to show her who’s boss.

“Stella, _please.”_ Warren tried to quiet his friend.

“I just want to know what he’s going to do.”

Nathan rose from his seat. _“I will fucking bash your br―”_

“What in the world is going on here?” Joyce was suddenly back on scene. In one hand was Nathan’s order, the other straddling her hip. She glanced between the three, Nathan, Warren, and Stella, with a look similar to one that a mother would give to reprimand her kids.

Warren rushed to explain. “We’re sorry, Joyce. We were just having a debate about this, uh, movie we saw. Got really into it.” He fabricated. Nathan held his tongue, still glaring at Stella.  

“Really now?” Joyce narrowed her eyes, though she didn’t seem to pick up on Warren’s lie. She set the plate down on Nathan’s table, who reluctantly sat back down.

“Yeah.” Warren said. Stella returned to picking at her food.

“Well, don’t get so passionate next time. Customer or not, I won’t stand for foolishness in my diner.” Joyce scolded. Warren went red at the ears, nodding.

Joyce left, and the three sat in a tense silence. Excluding the conversations of the other diner occupants and soft music playing on the jukebox.

Words couldn’t describe the amount of rage Nathan felt in him. The urge to leap over the seat and shove his fork down Stella’s throat was near impossible to withstand.

His appetite was ruined, even though the food before him looked absolutely delicious.

Nathan ended up slamming down the money to pay for his untouched meal, getting up and walking out. The bell sounded noisily above his head as he shoved open the door, garnering a curious stare from the man reading his newspaper nearby. Nathan ignored him, storming back to his truck while he fished for his keys.

Fucking piece of shit bitch.

She was so damn lucky there were witnesses around. He would’ve made her regret ever even opening her mouth to speak to him. In fact, if Nathan saw her at school, he was gonna make her pay.

Nathan was so pissed that he couldn’t even hold his keys properly. He dropped them on the concrete twice in his mania to unlock the door, and he was only three seconds away from just flinging it somewhere out of his sight.

_“Come on, you stupid fucking―”_

“Hey, Nathan! Wait up a second!”

Nathan gritted his teeth at the sound of the voice calling him. Fist clenched, Nathan turned to see Warren jogging towards him, a white box between his fingers.

“What the fuck do you want, nerd?”

Warren skidded to a stop in front of Nathan, who regarded him with a scowl. He held out the box.

“I saw that you hadn't even touched your food, so I...I got it for you.” Nathan peered between Warren and the takeout box, cynical. “You can consider it an apology gift for this morning and also on Stella’s behalf.” Warren explained.

Nathan stared blankly at the box.

He had difficulty believing that someone would actually bother with making sure he ate. The only person who readily ensured that was Victoria, and she hardly took no for an answer. Seeing Warren holding out what was apparently his abandoned food seemed like nothing more than a sick joke.

Nathan was prepared to say something especially vicious, but just then, Jefferson's words rang in his mind.

_You have to become acquainted with one of Max's friends._

Nathan hated the very thought of being seen associating with somebody like fucking _Warren Graham_ of all people. There was a reason why he wasn't in the Vortex Club, after all. It would be incredibly easy for Nathan's reputation to be flushed down the toilet befriending the nerd. However, Nathan knew what was at stake. The way he saw it, it was either subjecting his reputation to utter destruction, or voluntarily sending Victoria on a first class ticket to San Francisco with  _Jefferson._

...Fuck his reputation.

Nathan would cut off his left arm before doing that Victoria. She was practically his sister. He could handle a little name calling and dissing, he was used to it anyway. Still, becoming friends with  _Gayram?_ That would be almost impossible. Nathan would probably end up strangling him before he even managed to reach the friends stage. That pixie hipster whore had to have other friends she hung out with besides him. Nathan had zero interest in developing a friendship with Warren.

He'd find someone else.

Nathan pushed the box away.

“I don’t give a shit. I left it for a reason, dumbass.” 

Warren visibly deflated, although he still offered the box out to Nathan. Jeez, didn’t this guy take a fucking hint?

“But _―”_

In a blink of an eye, Nathan snatched the box out of Warren’s hand. Instead of keeping it, however, he flung it at the ground. Syrup and whipped cream drenched waffles, bacon, and eggs spilled onto the surface in a disgusting heap, the box laying ontop of it.

Warren gazed at it, while Nathan at last got his door open. He started his truck in record time and sped out the parking lot.

He pretended like he didn’t see Warren still standing there in his rear view mirror.

 

~

 

Nathan drove around town aimlessly, killing time until he decided to head back to Blackwell. Regret settled in the same time his hunger pains returned, but Nathan’s pride kept him from going back to the Two Whales.

Luckily, he managed to keep himself from gnawing at the steering wheel by snacking on some plain potato chips. He had had to get gas anyway, so while paying the cashier, Nathan’s eyes landed on the bag, and he tossed it onto the counter.

He tore it open the moment he got back in his truck. Either he was just really fucking hungry, or he just hadn’t had chips in forever, but they tasted better than he ever recalled.

Nathan finished it before he even made it back to school, crumpling the vacant bag in his fist. It started to rain not to long after. Cursing under his breath, he flipped on the windshield wipers briskly, though he didn’t have them on for long. The school came into view, and Nathan slowly pulled into the parking lot, shutting off his truck.

He sat in silence for a minute or two, just watching the rain pelt the windows and roll down out of sight.

Just then, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he took it out. A text from Victoria.

 

**_[Vic, Today at 11:13 A.M.]_ **

 

_Where are u Nate? I’m starting to worry._

 

Nathan smiled at the screen. Typical Vic.

 

**_[Me, Today at 11:14 A.M.]_ **

 

_jus got back 2 blackwell_

 

**_[Vic, Today at 11:14 A.M.]_ **

 

_Oh, good. Im in Jefferson’s class rn. Hasn’t started yet._

 

**_[Me, Today at 11:15 A.M.]_ **

 

_omw_

 

_~_

 

Just like she said, Victoria was in Jefferson’ classroom, sitting on top a table and typing away at her phone. Her back was to him, so she didn’t notice his arrival until he was right beside her.

“Hey, Nate.” Victoria greeted, cupid shaped lips smiling at him.

“‘Sup.” Nathan returned. He took a seat next to her at her beckon.

“Where’ve you been?"

Nathan shrugged, bouncing his leg. “Places, you know? Just had to clear my mind.”

“What?” He questioned at the look she was giving him.

“Places, huh? Did one of those places happen to be the lighthouse?” At this, Nathan peered away, staring at anything but her.

“..Maybe.” He murmured.

“I’m not judging you, Nate.” Victoria reassured.

“I know.”

He could feel her eyes boring into the side of his face, even though he wasn’t focused on her.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked softly, nudging her leg with his own. It was the small gesture and the tentative sound of her voice that made Nathan turn and face her. She looked compassionate, leniently awaiting his answer. Knowing that Victoria was being so understanding and honest with him made Nathan feel guilty as hell all over again.

He put on a fake mask of confidence. “Nothing for you to worry about, gorgeous.” Victoria gasped and pushed him playfully, making him chuckle as he swayed a minuscule distance to the side.

“I told you not to call me that.” She half heartedly rebuked.

“Can’t help it.” He smirked.

Victoria rolled her eyes, although Nathan could tell that she enjoyed the compliment. The two sat in a contented silence, until Victoria spoke again.

“Can’t believe I’m even asking this, but you haven’t seen that waif hipster have you?” Nathan tilted his head at Victoria, perplexed. She raised her manicured hands defensively. “I’m just curious. Haven’t seen her since Jefferson’s class yesterday.”

Nathan shook his head. “Why would you even care about that whore?”

“I don’t, trust me.” Victoria sighed. “It’s just..weird not seeing her here. Not that I’m complaining. Are you still looking for her?”

“Yeah.” Nathan said. “She can’t hide forever though. Gotta come out of her little hole sometime.” Victoria pursed her lips together and nodded.

The bell sounded for class, and Mr. Jefferson appeared in the doorway.

“Okay, I know you love me, but if you’re not in this class, beat it.” He said. “Everybody else, please sit down.”

Nathan stood, on his way to the door.

“I’ll see ya later, Vic.” He told Victoria.

Victoria shook her head in agreement, strutting over to her table. On his way out, Nathan briefly met eyes with Jefferson, his stomach running cold. There was something festering behind those dark glassy pools that Nathan couldn’t identify, yet it made him feel unsettled.

The uncanny feeling stuck with him even as he left the main building to go back to the dorms, only made worse by the biting rain soaking him from overhead.

His heart lurched when he heard a shrill scream come from near the dorms. A few people ran by him as well, their feet splashing against the wet ground.

_What the hell?_ He thought. Frowning, Nathan investigated the cause of the commotion, stumbling on what looked like a mass gathering of the student body. At first he thought maybe somebody had slipped and fell or something, but looking closely, he could see that that wasn’t it at all.

It was Kate.

She was pitted atop the roof of the dorms, windswept and brittle. In fact, she looked so frail against the ferocity of the wind and rain that Nathan was sure she would be blown away at any second. Overlooking the faces of Blackwell, Kate seemed resigned to death.

She wanted this. She wanted to jump. Her body was going to hit the ground, and Nathan would be permanently haunted by the regret of making her seem like the whore of the school just to save his own putrid skin.

Kate was going to die.

And Nathan couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoy slow build Grahamscott. A lot. Anyway, as always, thanks for reading.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My dumbass updating a month later, smh. Anyway, finally back at it. Once again, I apologize for the time it took me to update, I recently got back in school and that's been a pain in the ass, so there's that. This chapter is a whopping 12k, mostly because I wasn't sure how to split it into two chapters, and because it wouldn't the follow the order I'm writing the perspectives in. So, uh yeah. And if this chapter doesn't satisfy, then rest assured, the Grahamscott is surely coming. ;)

Warren had not been expecting to see Kate the moment he stepped outside his History class. His thoughts of whether or not Einstein would’ve been into sci-fi were halted as soon as he heard Kate's sniffles.

She looked even worse than the last time he saw her. It made Warren’s heart seize painfully in his chest, and he approached her with the intentions of at least making her crack a small smile.

“Kate.” Warren delicately touched Kate’s shoulder, making her turn around and face him. He wasn’t sure what to think of how alarmingly slender her shoulder felt underneath his hold.

“Warren.” Kate acknowledged. Warren internally flinched at the sound. It was weak, barely louder than a whisper. If he felt bad about watching the video before, he couldn’t even begin to describe how terrible he felt now. Warren wished he could go back in time and kick his own ass for it.

“Warren?”

Kate’s wide eyes brought Warren back to reality. She looked like she was going to bolt at any second. Warren rummaged for his words, spatting out the first comprehensible thing that came to his mind.

“Are you okay?”

Kate didn’t respond, and Warren cringed at his own stupidity. God, clearly she _wasn’t_ okay. People didn’t walk around with puffy eyes and dried tears and claim to be okay. He backtracked.

“Uh..that was a dumb thing to say.” He admitted sheepishly. “I’m sorry, um, are you..?”

“Warren?” Kate suddenly asked, drawing her sleeve across the bottom lids of her eyes. Warren hated the way her sweater hung off her frame. It looked bigger than she was.

“Yeah?”

Kate wrung her hands together, evidently nervous, picking her fingernails and focusing on the ground with a hard stare. Warren laced his own hands behind his back, graciously devoting his attention to what she had to say.

“What would you do if...if you strongly believe that something bad happened to you, but..nobody else seems to believe you?”

Warren cocked his head at the question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean..what would you do?” Kate clarified. “Do you just agree with what everybody else is telling you? Or do you keep insisting that you know what you’re talking about?”

The question honestly threw Warren for a loop.

He hadn’t personally been in a situation like that before, not even in his science class where heated theories and debate were recurring events in the class. He didn’t want to brag, but Warren very seldom doubted himself, and it usually turned out that he was correct. He had a feeling that the reason why Kate was bringing this question to him was because of the video. Everybody had their own inferences as to what happened, but nobody bothered to ask Kate herself.

People just assumed the church girl had gone wild.

Shamefully, Warren even found himself gravitating towards that conclusion at one point. That was the only explanation that stuck out to him that made sense. Kate was a religious, abstinent girl. She couldn’t drink, participate in recreational drugs, and god forbid if she ever thought about sex.

Warren had managed to accept the fact that maybe Kate just wanted to have some sort of rebellion against the confines of her religion.

He wanted to go back in time and kick his ass for that too.

Peering up at the ceiling, Warren hummed as he processed Kate’s question, rubbing his chin.

He replied genuinely, “I don’t think I would abandon what I think just because everyone else is saying something different.”

Kate’s expression brightened very slightly, and if Warren hadn’t been focusing on her face, he undoubtedly would have missed it. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, sometimes it’s better to state what you really think, even if people don’t agree with you on it.” Warren shrugged, rubbing his elbow.

Not even for a nanosecond did a tiny smile of relief appear on Kate’s lips. Warren blinked, and then it was gone.

“So, do you believe me when I say that something happened to me at the party? Because I swear, I only had a sip of wine and drank water, nothing else.”

“Of course I believe you, Kate.” Warren ensured, now confident in what he was saying. “Nobody knows the story better than you.”

Kate sighed. “I wish I knew the whole story. Like I said, I just remember taking a small sip of red wine then washing it down with water. The wine tasted a little salty, but I didn’t think much of it. Then..then after that, I just felt really happy. Everything’s in bits and pieces after that.”

Warren frowned. “Wait, did you say that your wine tasted _salty?”_

“Yeah.” Kate said.

“And that you felt really happy afterwards?”

“Uh huh...is that weird?” Warren’s eyes enlarged in realization.

“Oh god, Kate, I think somebody may have spiked you.” He breathed. “Usually the signs of a drugged beverage includes a salty or bitter aftertaste. Not to mention you said that you were feeling uncharacteristically elated afterwards.”

Kate gasped, hands cupped over her lower face in shock.

“Warren, are you sure?” She squeaked, eyes brimming with tears again. Warren nodded regretfully.

“God, Warren..I knew something was off about this whole thing. I just...I can’t believe that somebody would do this to me.” Lamented Kate. Warren wanted to comfort her, but he just stood there with his hands glued behind his back, feet rooted to the floor.

He waited until Kate had visibly settled down before asking her his next question. “What else do you remember about the party?”

Kate sniffled and continued recounting the events. “I remember getting sick and dizzy afterwards, then Nathan Prescott told me that he would take me to a hospital.”

“Nathan?”  Warren questioned in surprise.

“He was being nice for a change when he offered to help me.” Kate muttered.

Warren snorted. “I doubt Nathan would have a change of heart. Okay..what after that?”

“All I recall is driving for a long time..then I woke up in a room.”

“A hospital, you think?”

“I thought so, at first. It was so white and bright..”

“Go on.” Warren urged.

“Somebody was talking to me in a soft voice...I thought it was a doctor...until I heard Nathan’s voice and felt a sharp sting in my neck.”

“Then..what?” Warren asked carefully.

“That’s all I remember! I don’t know what happened...I woke up outside my dorm room the next day. I didn’t have any bruises or anything but I felt gross.” Kate wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering slightly.

Warren shook his head, trying to grasp this whole situation. “Who do you think filmed you at the party?”

“I have no idea. Probably Victoria or somebody. She was there being her mean self.”

“Jesus, Kate. I’m so sorry this happened. Why did you even go to the party? You know the Vortex Club is trouble.” Warren said.

“I went against my better judgement.” Kate admitted. “Not my scene at all.”

Warren nodded his agreement. “I hear you. Can’t stand those snobs.”

Silence floated between them for a little while, Warren not having a clue as to how to continue the conversation after what he just heard. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“So, how do I get a viral video taken down?” Kate asked him, frantic. “I know it’s already spreading―what if my church sees that? I need to know what to do..”

Warren knew without a doubt that once a video went viral on the internet, it was pretty much immortalized. If it was deleted on one site, it would just be reuploaded to another, stuck in an infinite chain until people either lost interest, or they found some other video to make infamous.

Still, Warren wasn’t sure how Kate would take that.

“Kate, we’ll find some way to fix this. I promise.” He said instead.

Just as he expected, Kate didn’t look the least bit assured by his words. “Thanks, Warren…” She said dejectedly. “By the way, if you see Max, can you tell her I need my copy of The October Country back? I need to take some notes for class.”

“Sure thing, Kate.” Warren said, a rueful smile playing on his lips. He took that as his cue to leave, however, Kate’s tiny voice calling out to him made him whirl around instantly.

“Can I ask you a question? And please be honest.”

“Of course, Kate. What is it?”

Kate clasped her hands together. “I need to find out if Nathan Prescott helped me...or hurt me after that party. Should I go to the police?”

Warning bells immediately went off in Warren’s head.

He wanted Kate to find some kind of closure, but not like this! Warren didn’t have anything to do with the party that night. He wasn’t even there. If Kate were to take this matter to the police, then they would surely drag him into it, and Warren didn’t really want to know how deceitful the Arcadia Bay police could be under the influence of the Prescotts. That was a situation that could easily go awry.

It hurt him to do it, but Warren couldn’t go through with that plan. He would have to find some other way to help Kate.

“Kate, wait.” Warren started off, trying to sugarcoat his words as much as possible. “I want you to get help solving this whole thing, but I don’t think going to the police is the way to do it.”

Kate’s demoralized expression cut into Warren like a hot knife through butter.

“I don’t understand. Warren, I thought you said you believed me.”

“I-I do, Kate! Really!” Warren hastily reasserted. “It’s just, if we go to the police, then there’s no guarantee that they’ll even believe us.”

“But I know I was drugged―”

“That’s something you have to prove. And without any proof, they could quite possibly use that video of you with all those guys and turn it against you.” Warren explained.

Kate deflated. “You make me feel so helpless..”

“No, Kate. I just don’t want this to backfire on you. I’m trying to stop you from getting hurt anymore.”

“That seems impossible at this point. So that’s your answer?”

“I just think we should wait for the right moment is all, Kate.” Warren justified himself. “I’m looking for other alternatives that don’t have high probabilities of failing.”

“But not right now. So I can walk down the halls with people calling me a viral slut. Thanks, Warren.” Kate said bitterly.

Warren didn’t have the chance to adjust his words. Kate left in a hurry, pushing open the doors of the main building and disappearing around the corner.

Warren sighed. That wasn’t exactly what he had meant. Making Kate even more upset wasn’t on his agenda, but at least he would be able to look into matters privately. Having the police scurrying around would make things incredibly difficult. Warren just hoped that Kate wouldn’t do anything too drastic.

His phone buzzed.

Warren didn’t even have to take it out to know that it was Stella. When the girl was hungry, she became an entirely different person. Thankfully, Warren only experienced her querulous mood swing once before. Rest assured he learned his lesson of bringing her pizza about half an hour late.

He didn’t go to his science class until a couple hours later, and breakfast definitely sounded like a good idea to Warren right now.

He headed to the parking lot.

 

―

 

Sure enough, when he entered the parking lot, Warren wasn’t surprised to see Stella leaning against the hood of his car. She was texting away at her phone furiously, and judging by the way his phone was going off repeatedly in his pocket, those furious messages were for him. He absently wondered if he had looked like that yesterday waiting for Max.

Stella looked up when she heard Warren’s sneakers sounding against the asphalt. “Well, if it isn’t Mister, ‘I Can’t Be Punctual to Save My Life’?”

Warren grinned, flushing slightly. “Sorry, Stel.” He apologized, speed walking over to the driver’s side door. “I was talking to Kate.”

All trace of annoyance on Stella’s face vanished in an instant, exchanged for an impish smirk. Warren knew that look anywhere. He groaned.

“Warren Graham talking to the lovable Kate Marsh? Do tell.” She giggled.

Warren went bright red. “I-It’s not like that.” He stammered. “We were just―”

“Just _what?”_ Stella asked attentively. Warren always despised when she got nosy.

“Nothing.” Warren searched through his pockets. The one time he needed to find his keys..

Stella was persistent. “Talking about what, Warren? I mean, it _had_ to have been something deep if it kept you from getting me my breakfast.”

“Honestly, it wasn’t anything.” Warren defended. He slipped his fingers into his back pocket, relieved when it felt cold metal greet them. “Just assignments and whatnot.”

Warren made sure to avoid eye contact with Stella as he moved to get his door open. It took a little effort to get it open, as the door tended to stick. Of course, this just happened to be one of those times.

“Assignments?” Stella sing-songed.

“Yep.”

“You sure about that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Warren sighed as he at last pulled open the door. He sat down, but not before leaning over and unlocking the passenger door for Stella. She opened it wider and deposited herself in the slightly torn seat, her smug look still in place.

“You were saying?”

“I wasn’t saying anything.” Warren dismissed, wanting the topic to be dropped. “For the last time, we were just talking about an assignment for English class.” He turned the keys in the ignition, and the car came to life with a boisterous rattle. Stella wrinkled her nose at the sound and turned to Warren questioningly, but he gave her a goofy grin in return.

“That’s the sound of perfection, baby!”

“That’s the sound of a well needed tune up.” Stella remarked. Warren chuckled and twisted around in his seat, backing the car slowly out his parking space. Soon enough, they were cruising down the streets to the Two Whales. They went at a pretty decent speed, but nothing over 25 miles per hour. After only about 10 minutes, Stella already looked fed up.

 _“Dios mío, Warren.”_ She complained, spanish dialect rolling off her tongue. “Couldn’t we have taken the bus or something? I can feel my stomach eating itself from the inside out.”

Warren grimaced. “First off, gross. Second, we’re only like, 5 minutes away, you can hold out until then, right?”

Stella sighed and slid down as far as her seatbelt would let her. “I hope so. Ugh, remind me never to accept a ride from you again. At least not in this…” She looked around her surroundings, _“Time machine.”_

“But it’s a _classic_ , dude! 1978 to be exact.” Warren beamed proudly. “What’s there not to like about it?”

“Everything.” Stella deadpanned.

 _“Ouch,_ that was cold.”

“Just telling it like it is, science guy.”

Warren reclined into a pouty silence. Meanwhile, Stella made a move to lower her window, rolling her eyes at the crank mechanism. “Yep, definitely old.” To her dismay, however, the window only parted a crack, just barely enough to let in a tiny draft.

“Uh, Warren?”

Warren’s gaze ephemerally landed on the window, and he snapped his fingers. “Oh, right! I forgot. The windows in this car are kinda busted.” He informed. “All of them only roll down about that same length.”

Stella tugged at her shirt collar and glared. “You forgot to let me in on that little detail?”

“Sorry.” Warren vindicated, his tone scarcely apologetic. He smiled brightly at her. “Kinda slipped my mind.”

“Among other things.” She muttered. Trying her luck with the A.C., Stella rotated the little dial to the coldest setting. Her hand hovered above the ventilator, hoping to feel a rush of cool air ghosting between her fingers.

She didn’t.

“Yeah, A.C. doesn’t work either.” Warren said.

Stella flung her hands up in exasperation. “You’re _killing_ me here, Warren. Literally.” She bemoaned. Warren honestly didn’t see what the problem was, he felt as cool as a cucumber. As a matter of fact, warm weather didn’t bother Warren at all. There was always that tinesy little breeze that came with it, not too strong, and not too weak either. When he had learned that his car was...handicapped, so to speak, Warren had just rolled with it.

Pun intended.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He told her, meaningful this time. “What I can do to make it up to you?”

The moment Stella perked up, Warren instantly regretted asking such a thing. “You owe me...half of your bacon.”

 _“Half?”_ Warren gulped.

“Yep. Also consider it as penance for keeping me from my breakfast.” She added. Warren wanted to protest, but knowing Stella, she would probably just add onto that list of punishment. Losing half of his bacon was bad enough. He concurred with a palpable disinclination.

“Fine, you win. Bacon it is.”

 

~

 

Warren drove into the parking lot of the Two Whales, claiming a space near the front of the diner. He shut the car off, the engine giving another shudder or two before stilling entirely. He faced his passenger. “Alright, we’re―”

Stella avidly jumped out the car before Warren even had the time to unclasp his seatbelt. She stood on the concrete, overdramatically wiping a sheen of glistening sweat from her forehead.

“..Here.” Warren finished quietly.

He took his time getting out the car himself, clearly in no rush despite his growling stomach. The sun was at its peak, high in the sky and enveloping the small town in its rays. It had to have at least been 80 or so degrees.

There were a few other vehicles parked in the vicinity, including an RV. A quick glance around it and Warren noticed a man and a dog, whom he assumed had to be the inhabitants of said RV. The man’s eyes were closed, his head pressed against the back of the chair while the dog remained fully alert against some unforeseen danger. Warren regarded them with a smile. He always wanted to have some kind of pet.

The last pet he had, if he could even call it that, was a cat that came to his house every night when he was ten. He would be tripping over his own feet trying to get outside, hopeful that one day his parents would actually yield and let him keep it. Now that he was older and more sensible, Warren figured the only reason the cat bothered stopping by every night was to get himself a nice meal that he didn’t have to pilfer through the trash for.

After he and his parents moved, he never saw that cat again.

Of course, that didn’t stop Warren from offering whatever food he had on hand to a hungry cat or dog on the streets. That was just the way he was. Warren was sure that he didn’t live in his dorm on campus, he would’ve long since adopted himself a pet.

 _Maybe in the near future._ He thought.

“Earth to science guy..” Stella tapped Warren on the nose, startling him. “You gonna stand there and gawk in the hot sun, or actually come inside and get something to eat?”

Warren blushed. Man, he has been doing that a lot lately. “I think I’ll come inside.”

“Good choice.” Stella smirked.

Together, the two made their way to the entrance of the Two Whales. As they walked, Warren accidentally made eye contact with the fisherman at his booth, shuffling the papers he had ontop. He signaled him over, and Warren sheepishly acquiesced.

“Uh..good morning, sir.” Warren greeted. Stella gave her own half hearted wave.

“No need to be so stiff, boy. I’m not gonna bite you.” The man said. Warren promptly tucked his arms behind his back, self conscious of his stance.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize neither.”

“Uh, okay.”

Stella stifled a laugh behind her hand, earning a glare from Warren. The man didn’t seem to notice the exchange or he didn’t care. He held out one of the booklets he had laying ontop the booth, and Warren took it politely.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“Consider it an informative message.” The man gruffed. “Arcadia Bay is going right down the drain.”

“What are you talking about? Is something happening?” Stella questioned intuitively.

“By Neptune’s beard, it is!” Exclaimed the fisherman, eyes flying to Stella. “Seems like a lifetime ago when I was king of the harbor.”

Warren scratched the back of his head. “I guess you don’t fish like you used to anymore?”

The man sighed, a forlorn sheen swimming in his pools. “Unfortunately. I used to fish all the time. Had my own boat and everything. Called her, “Bali Hai”. Me and that girl would reel in fish for days. Hell, they practically jumped onto the boat.”

“You still have it?” Stella asked.

“For now, anyway. I’m trying to keep ahold of her for as long as I can.” The man sadly told them. “In these lean days, might be all the time we have left.”

“Are you gonna leave town when that happens?”

A deep chuckle escaped the man’s throat. “Maybe. I grew up in Arcadia Bay, but it’s not the same fishing town that I remember. Ever since those Prescotts and their finance fiends snapped up harbor rights…”

Warren piped up at this. “The Prescotts?” He asked.

“Yes, the _Prescotts.”_ The man looked disgusted even saying the name. “Those no good, conniving thieves.”

“Yeah, they kinda have a reputation.” Stella agreed. “Not the good kind, either.”

“They might rename the town Prescott Bay if that tells you much.”

Stella shook her head, crossing her arms. “My friend and I actually go to a school that they own. Our dormitories are even named after them.”

“I’m not surprised.” The fisherman answered. “If it helps them gain unwarranted respect, crooks’ll put their names anywhere.”

“It’s sad, to say the least.” Stella said.

“Let’s not get downcast, though.” The man suddenly changed the subject, sadness quelled. “I hear the fish calling for Bali Hai…Never forget that old fisherman never die, we just smell that way.”

Warren and Stella nodded, prior to bidding the fisherman goodbye. They headed to the diner, thankfully, without anymore interruptions.

 

~

 

The smell of frying eggs and brewing coffee hit Warren’s senses in the most comforting way possible. He breathed it in gratefully, already feeling at ease in the cozy atmosphere. A couple locals seated at the counter turned at the sound of the bell chiming energetically above the door, giving Warren and Stella a few inquisitive looks before returning to their breakfast. The two made their way over to a booth over to the right; the one that Warren had etched into the surface. Joyce wasn’t pleased to find out about it, but she wasn’t the type to hold grudges. She forgave him for it barely two days afterwards. Ever since then, Warren had decided to make that booth his regular spot.

Sliding in, he slunk into the crinkly seat purposely, while Stella sat across from him. She flipped open the menu that was lying there, but Warren didn’t bother with it. He knew what he wanted.

After a minute or two of humming and intense scrutiny, Stella lowered the menu and looked up at Warren curiously. “What are you getting?” She asked him.

“A belgian waffle, hash browns, and extra crispy bacon.” Warren recited automatically, counting off on his fingers as he listed each item. Stella nodded, turning her gaze when she saw the waitress approach their table. Joyce.

“Don’t you two look hungry?” The blonde, ponytailed woman greeted cordially as she came over. The welcoming smile Joyce had on her lips died the moment she saw Warren. “Oh, honey, what happened to your eye?”

His eye? What was wrong with his... _oh,_ that’s right. Black eye.

Truth of the matter was, Warren had candidly forgot that his face still openly showcased the aftereffects of his confrontation with Nathan. Of course, that meant that Warren hadn’t been prepared to provide an excuse, and he could see Stella eyeing him out his peripherals, wondering what he was going to say. He wasn’t the best liar. Actually, if Warren was being plainly honest, his lying skills were absolutely piss poor.

He attributed it to the fact that his parents had raised him with the ideology that lying was immoral, which effectively made Warren an open book, painfully readable and susceptible to telling the truth. If ever there was a time when Warren wished he wasn’t so virtuous, now would be definitely be that time.

Warren plastered an awkward grin on his face, fingers drumming on the table. _Come on, brain, think._ “I...wasn’t looking where I was going.” He said slowly, trying to draw out an explanation that didn’t seem like it was made up on the spot. Which, was exactly what it was. “I accidentally walked into a wall.”

Joyce accosted Warren a skeptical stare, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Why is it that I find that hard to believe?”

Warren faltered. “Uh...well..I was looking down at my notebook, and...”

“I saw it happen.” Stella added, backing up Warren’s fib. “It was all swollen and bruised, so I helped him put ice on it afterwards. It helped a bit, but obviously not much” She said. Fearing that Joyce would see right through his bullshit, Warren nodded along.

Joyce’s lips quirked, and Warren was absolutely sure that she was on to him. To his relief, though, she dropped the subject. “Alright, just be careful next time.” She scolded lightly.

“Yes ma’am.” Warren assured.

Joyce smiled then, her eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. “Now what can I get you two?”

“I can’t help but notice how incredibly irresistible that bacon omelette is looking right now.” Stella said.

“I’ve got you covered.” Joyce wrote down the order in the small notepad she had in her hand, directing her attention on Warren. “What about you, honey?”

“I would like a belgian waffle, hash browns, and extra crispy bacon, please.” Warren requested politely.

“And what would you fancy for a drink?” She questioned them both.

“Coffee.” Warren said.

“Orange juice.”

Joyce noted that down as well, nodding in confirmation as she turned to go prepare their orders. “Coming right up.” She told them.

Warren and Stella acknowledged this, and began to wait patiently for their food. Once Warren confirmed that Joyce was out of hearing range, he leaned forward on the table, careful not to close the distance between them. “You, are an angel.” He breathed.

Stella smirked, readjusting her glasses so that they were further up on the apex of her nose. “I know. But that also means you owe me something else.”

“Aww, what? Come on.” Warren whined.

 _“All_ your bacon.”

Warren huffed, jutting out his lip like a petulant child. “Fine. You’re so ruthless when you’re hungry.”

Stella shrugged, unfazed by the comment. “Such is life.”

Warren shook his head and sat back in mournful silence over the loss of his bacon. Joyce came back over, settling their respective drinks in front of them. For Warren, a pitch black coffee, and Stella, the orange juice. He sipped delicately at his scalding beverage, fond of the taste. Most people he knew couldn’t stand coffee without cream and sugar, but Warren enjoyed coffee just the way it came.

Right as he sat his mug down, licking at the excess on his lips, Stella suddenly slid out her seat.

“Bathroom.” She explained at Warren’s confused expression.

“Oh, okay.” He murmured. Warren watched her until her form disappeared into the girl’s bathroom, leaving him alone for the time being. Boredom seeped in, and his eyes quickly began to scan the area. There was a dusty jukebox in the corner belting out some rustic tune that Warren couldn’t identify. He blinked, but he could’ve sworn he saw something rapidly scurrying upon the surface. Decorating the walls were various postcards and papers mostly related to the diner or the Bay.

They had clearly been there for some time, the papers dog-eared and partially faded. Warren shifted his gaze elsewhere. For some reason, he was drawn by the faint remnants of red lipstick still clinging to the rim of his mug. He didn’t question how it even got there in the first place. After years of serving hungry patrons, Warren could imagine that sights like those were customary. It really made him wonder how Joyce had endured such a job for as long as she has.

As if reading his thoughts, Joyce came back over, placing two plates on the table. Warren ogled the assortment of breakfast food like it was a platter of gold. Joyce noticed this, and laughed fondly. “Goodness, honey, just how hungry were you?”

“Starved.” Warren replied, already in the midst of reaching for the syrup. Remembering his manners, he paused, giving Joyce a polite smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She said.

The waitress left Warren to his food, a forkful of waffle already in his mouth. If he hadn’t been in a public setting, he probably would have moaned at the flavor.

Stella hadn’t returned yet, which meant his bacon had yet to be claimed. His hunger didn’t allow him to abide by his friend’s obligations; Warren crammed a piece of bacon into his mouth, pleased by his shortly lived moment of rebellion.

She wouldn’t notice anyway.

His musing was interrupted by a flash of red suddenly dancing out the corner of his vision. Turning, Warren barely caught a glimpse of whoever it was before they entered the diner. The bell chimed again, in walking the very last person he had wanted to see that morning.

Nathan Prescott strode deliberately through the diner, a few of the truckers and patrons shooting him a glare or immediately whirling back around at the sight of him. Warren quickly set his eyes back on the table before Nathan noticed his presence.

God, why here? Why _now?_ He had no interest on interacting with Nathan at all again today, or for the rest of the semester, if he was lucky. After the near fight they had in the bathroom, Warren had been unexpectedly racked with guilt. Yeah, it was pretty stupid considering that Nathan mercilessly beat him in broad daylight yesterday, but Warren was an extremely forgiving person. Maybe even to a fault. He had felt utterly terrible by the time History class rolled around, wanting to go back and make amends. Of course, that didn’t mean he desired Nathan Prescott to be at the exact same place at the exact same time he was just so he could apologize.

He wasn’t exactly ready for that yet.

In his internalized panic, Warren didn’t notice Stella settling back in front of him. He practically jumped out his skin when she snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“What’s up with you? You look like you just saw a ghost, Warren.” Stella said, concerned. She began transferring his bacon onto her plate, expression unchanged.

Warren forced himself to appear like he didn’t just suffer from a mini heart attack at the hands of the boy behind him. Swallowing, he threw on what he thought was his most convincing smile. “I-I’m fine! Really, the hash browns were just _really_ hot!” He exclaimed.

Once again, Warren’s atrocious lying skills made themselves evident. That, and Stella just so happened to be incredibly perceptive, especially when it came to him.

She peered over his shoulder, and Warren could practically see the gears turning in her head.

Stella pointed a finger and whispered, _“Is that who I think it is?”_ Warren cringed at how loud she was being, despite whispering.

He instinctively lowered his head. _“Trying not to..”_ Stella was still staring at the Prescott behind him, and for some reason, Warren’s judgement deemed it acceptable to follow her gaze.

He hadn’t taken it into consideration that Nathan would turn around at that exact moment as well.

Nathan looked pissed, clearly having heard him and Stella’s awful whispering behind his back. He looked dead at Warren, however, and his expression soured even more.

 _“Graham?”_ He spat.

Panic reignited tenfold, Warren stammered out the only thing that he could think of.

“What are you doing here?”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say. Nathan expressed his annoyance with a profound eye roll, and answered, “Getting breakfast, what the fuck does it look like?”

The tips of Warren’s ears went red with embarrassment. It was weird, he had felt so confident this morning in the bathroom, but now, he wasn’t so sure. It was like all his audacity had been vaporized, leaving him self conscious and worrisome.

“Nathan Prescott at the Two Whales of all places?” Stella interjected. Warren almost forgot she was there. “Didn’t know you ate with us commoners.”

Warren faced Stella with a look that said, ‘What the heck are you doing?’ However, Stella didn’t even glance at him. There was a determined, fiery look in her eyes, a sure sign that she wasn’t about to back down.

Nathan recentered his glare and sneered at her, “It’s none of your business where the hell I eat, bitch.”

Sensing the tension that was escalating, Warren tried to diffuse the situation. “Dude, chill.” He advised, finding his voice. “We’re just here to eat like everybody else, right Stella?” Warren shot Stella a silent, pleading message to let it go. She met his eyes briefly, but it almost immediately flew back to Nathan’s.

“I just want to know why a Prescott would be spending time in a lowly place like this. He’s got money to eat in some place _waaay_ fancier, doesn’t he?”

Nathan’s eyes dilated, and Warren desperately gestured for Stella to stop talking.

“You better shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.” Nathan threatened.

“Or what?”

“Stella, _please.”_ Came Warren’s weak protest.

“I just want to know what he’s going to do.” She insisted. Nathan stood up, teeth grinding together roughly.

Warren was fully prepared to physically defend Stella from the young Prescott if he need be, but thankfully, he didn’t have to.

_“I will fucking bash your br―”_

“What in the world is going on here?” Joyce demanded, silencing Nathan. Warren turned to see the blonde waitress darting her eyes between the three of them, wanting an explanation. Stella looked at Warren, while Nathan didn’t say anything. That left Warren to explain what happened.

“We’re sorry, Joyce.” He apologized. _Come on, think of something believable, Warren._  “We were just having a debate about this, uh, movie we saw. Got really into it.” He said. That was a pretty good lie, wasn’t it?

Nathan, surprisingly, didn’t dissent. Warren searched Joyce’s face for any sign of mistrust.

“Really now?” She questioned, putting what Warren assumed to be Nathan’s order down in front of him.

“Yeah.” Warren lied. Stella quietly ate her omelette, ignoring Nathan’s glower. Joyce looked between the three of them one last time, and Warren could tell that she bought it.

“Well, don’t get so passionate next time. Customer or not, I won’t stand for foolishness in my diner.” She told them, directing her words towards Warren. Feeling his ears grow warm again, he nodded obediently.

Once Joyce left, Warren sighed and fixated Stella with a somewhat disparaging look. She offered a shrug in return, and crunched on her bacon.

Warren wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or not. That wasn’t at all how he wanted the conversation with Nathan to go, if at all. At the same time, he could clearly tell that Stella only did that as a way to berate him for yesterday. As good as her intentions were, Warren couldn’t help but reflect on the consequences that would result in for his friend.

Unable to initiate conversation at the moment, he reluctantly allowed himself to recline into the uncomfortable quietude hanging over them like death.

Nathan was unbearably silent behind him. Warren knew without a semblance of doubt that he was still fuming. He could practically feel angry waves emanating off his form.

Ugh, so much for apologizing.

His chances of making some kind of amends with Nathan had been trampled, spat on and virtually reduced to nothing. He didn’t want to pin the blame on Stella, she was just trying to defend him. But Warren hadn’t asked for help. He wanted to fix things on his own terms, dammit. Not to mention he had wanted to try and see if he could obtain more information about what happened at the Vortex Club the night Kate was drugged.

The thought of apologizing right now came to Warren, though he wasn't given the chance to attempt it. The sound of something colliding with the table behind him followed by heavy stomps sounding towards the door denoted that the Prescott had just vacated the premises. Twisting around in his seat, Warren’s guilt returned as his eyes landed on the partially crumpled bill resting next to an untouched plate of food.

He sighed and slumped back down in his seat. “He left.”

“Too bad.” Stella plainly replied, seemingly having waited for Nathan to go. “His fault for being a jerk.”

“But, Stel, he didn’t even say anything to us.” Warren argued. He couldn’t believe that he was even considering defending Nathan Prescott, but to be fair, he wasn’t the one who started it. Not to mention that they had just successfully ruined his breakfast. Stella lifted a brow.

“You do recall that he beat you up yesterday, right?” She asked wryly.

“Yeah, but _―_ ”

“But, what?” Stella pressed. “You didn’t want me to call him out on his shit?” Then, she inched closer, saying in a low voice, “He gave you a _black eye,_ Warren.”

Warren sighed in exasperation, “I know, I know. But I wanted to try and make things right, for once. Sometimes it’s just easier to let certain things go.”

Stella shook her head, her protective fury slowly fading like a doused flame. Her eyes lost their hard edge, softening. “I forgot...you’re such a peacemaker.” She mumbled. “You don’t have a single bad bone in your body.”

Warren blushed at the description, rubbing the back of his head like he usually did when he was flustered. “Guess I just don’t know how to hold a grudge.” He grinned.

Stella chuckled, glancing outside past Warren’s chestnut eyes. She tossed her head. “Well, Doctor, if you’re quick enough, you might still be able to catch your escaped patient.”

Warren looked outside as well, identifying the figure of Nathan poised at his truck with his keys in hand. It was clear that the only reason why he hadn’t left yet was because of the obvious trouble he was having in opening his door. Sensing this as his only chance, Warren made his move. He signaled for Joyce.

 

~

 

Outside, Warren’s legs carried him over to the red truck a few feet away, its owner looking far from pleased. Warren was honestly elated that Nathan was experiencing such crappy car door trouble, otherwise he most likely would have been gone before Warren could get one foot out the diner.

“Hey, Nathan! Wait up a second!” Warren called. He saw Nathan’s fist ball impulsively at his side as he glanced in Warren’s direction.

“What the fuck do you want, nerd?”

Warren came to a stop as gracefully as he could in front of him, panting ever so slightly. Talk about being out of shape. He held out the white take out box he had clutched tightly in his hands, hoping to explain himself without looking like a total klutz.

“I saw that you hadn’t even touched your food, so I...I got it for you.” He chose his words gingerly, tiptoeing around those that could potentially result an explosive reaction from the irritated Prescott. Luckily, Nathan didn’t shout at him, but instead just stared between him and the takeout box.

“You can consider it an apology gift for this morning and also on Stella’s behalf.” Warren said as an answer.

No move was made on Nathan’s part, whose face hadn’t changed. Behind those glassy blue pools, Warren could see the thoughts swirling around in his head. Not really what Warren was going for, but it was better than nothing. He was surprised he had even gotten this far.

The awkwardness of the situation started to wrap around Warren in the form of heat, and it wasn’t from the sun. His hand lowered a bit, but he still determinedly held it out for Nathan to reach for the box. When Nathan at last appeared to come back down to earth, Warren was transiently instilled with a hope that his generosity was about to be accepted.

But, then Nathan pushed the box away, and his hope vanished.

“I don’t give a shit. I left it for a reason, dumbass.” Nathan insulted.

Definite blow to his self assurance. His brain began issuing out the urgent command to take that as a sign to fuck off, but Warren stood his ground. His hand remained leveled, box still warm in his palm. So what if he was persistent? Persistence was good, sometimes anyway. If he just...kept at it, he’d have to accept eventually, right?

“But―” Warren started.

Nathan sucked in a sharp breath of air between his teeth, tearing the box from his hand with a surprisingly forceful grip. Before Warren could bask in his celebration, he watched as the box went hurtling towards the ground along with his triumph, piling onto the pavement in a nauseating breakfasty mixture.

Warren ogled the mess in a silent daze, not paying attention to Nathan who yanked open his door with a tiny growl. He started his truck, and in a couple seconds, he was gone. The only thing that indicated he was here at all was the faint marks painted on the concrete and smell of singed rubber in the air.

On the ground, curious ants were already investigating the newfound source of food carelessly discarded.

Warren sighed.

_There goes the easy route._

 

~

 

With his plan having failed, Warren went back inside to where Stella was browsing idly on her phone, her plate still half full. She looked up when Warren sat down dejectedly in front of her.

“Hey.” She greeted.

“Hi.”

“I take it your conversation didn’t bode too well?” Warren glumly shook his head.

Stella sighed, laying her phone down. “I told you he was a jerk. I don’t know why you even bothered trying to reason with him. It’s like...talking to a brick wall.”

“An angry brick wall.” Warren added, sitting up and grabbing his fork. He picked at his food, his appetite not nearly as powerful as before. “Really makes you wonder what a guy has to go through to be that...that..”

“Douchey?” Stella supplied with a smirk.

Warren chuckled, “Yeah, sounds about right.” He agreed quietly. Though they were just joking, Warren legitimately wondered if Nathan had always been that standoffish and mean. Of course, people around the town just summed it up to being part of the Prescott genes. Scientifically speaking, there was the likelihood that Nathan simply inherited a particularly nasty personality trait, but sometimes Warren liked to imagine that something had made him that way.

If he was truly wicked and evil, then there would be a very low chance of him and Victoria being as close as they were, at least from what he’s observed. Maybe, just maybe, there was a nicer side of Nathan that was buried underneath all that waspish rage.

At this point, Warren would believe anything.

He mulled over this while taking a sip from his now lukewarm coffee. Stella watched him, making him a blush bit and lift his eyebrows in question.

“I’m sorta not hungry anymore.” She murmured, nudging her plate away. “You wanna get outta this place?”

Warren set his mug down and cocked his head. “And go where? Back to Blackwell?” He assumed.

Stella’s lips twisted in a teasing smile. “Not yet anyway.” She vaguely told him. Now Warren was really curious.

Stella didn’t say anything as she placed a neatly folded twenty dollar bill on the table and got out the seat, headed to the door. Warren followed after swiping one last piece of bacon from her plate.

 

~

 

“You need to make a left here.” Stella informed Warren, her eyes scanning ahead. Warren did as he was told, flipping on the blinker and veering the car to the left. He had no clue where they were, trees flanking them on both sides. The only thing he could see ahead was more road. And trees.

Warren sighed, “Stella _―_ ”

“We’re almost there, promise.” Stella quickly reaffirmed, sensing Warren’s exasperation. Warren squared his jaw, but went along with it anyway. He wasn’t in any rush to get back to Blackwell, even though the next class he had was chemistry, one of his favorites. There was just something about putting on those safety goggles and gloves with an assortment of chemicals at his disposal that made Warren feel like a mad scientist.

Still, he wasn’t a fan of driving to the middle of nowhere. It guzzled up his gas, and he really didn’t want to have to push it back to the nearest service station.

“Then turn here.” Stella pointed. Just when Warren thought he had reached his capacity in terms of patience, the surface underneath the car changed, becoming more bumpy and uncertain. Warren reflexively switched gears, easing the car to a stop.

“I think we’re here.” Stella announced, a big smile breaking out on her face.

Warren took in their surroundings, confused. All he saw were trees and random rocks. “Where’s ‘here’? Just looks like a dead end to me.” Stella rolled her eyes, unlatching her seat belt and hopping out the car. She motioned for Warren to follow.

Sensing he didn’t have any other option, Warren exited his car and trailed after Stella, who was expertly balancing across a fallen tree. Warren hesitated.

“Come on, _rezagado._ Keep up.” Stella called as she glanced behind her and saw Warren’s snail-like speed. She stood on the other side with her arms crossed over her chest in a smug manner, having obviously done this before. Warren envied her dexterity. He, on the other hand, was a man of science. Being physically active was something Warren had never been, not even as a kid. He’d prefer sitting on a chair and experimenting with chemicals anyday.

Timidly setting one foot on the tree, Warren’s stomach lurched a bit at the way it shifted slightly, trying to acclimate to his weight.

“I’m gonna fall, I’m gonna fall…” Warren muttered to himself, shifting inch by inch across the bark.

“Warren, the tree’s not that high up.” Stella said matter of factly, watching him. “You’re not gonna fall.”

Warren nodded, cheeks heating up a bit, and he quickened his speed. Soon enough, he was standing next to Stella, who patted him on the back in a congratulating manner.  

“There. Wasn’t so hard was it?” She smirked.

Warren shot her a dirty look, but didn’t say anything more on the matter. He continued to follow after her the rest of the way, where the foliage began to spread out, and the scent of ocean water hit his nose.

Sure enough, Warren felt sand stir underneath his sneakers, and he found himself staring out at the relatively calm sea. Waves lazily crashed against the shore, soaking the sand, seagulls squawking overhead with the sun nearly at its peak and a few clouds beginning to gather. It was a perfect photo op, and Warren suddenly wished Max were here to take a picture.

“Woah.” He heard himself say. Stella faced him, grinning at his approval.

“Cool, huh?”

Warren nodded, then asked, “How did you find this place?”

“Roadtrip.” Stella answered, almost as if she had been awaiting the question. “When my family had first drove down to Arcadia Bay, we had stopped to rest for a bit. I really needed to stretch my legs, and I ended up wandering off. Somehow, I had come across this place.” Stella walked forward a bit, kneeling just before the waves. “It was so peaceful and quiet that I couldn’t help but just sit and relax for a bit, kinda tuning out the world for a little while. Of course, my mom and dad were pissed at me for walking off like that, but I’m glad I did.” She grabbed the closest stick and began tracing markings into the sand at random.

Warren came over as well, watching her arbitrary movements with slight intrigue. They remained in that position for a few, Warren switching his crouch to a seated position once his knees started to ache.

“Do you come here often?” He asked her, wanting to keep the conversation going. He backtracked at the suggestive look Stella gave him. “Not like that.” He groaned.

Stella shoved him lightly, making him sway to the side. “I thought so, lover boy. But, to answer your question, I haven’t been here ever since I first found it. This is technically the second time.” She said.

“How come you don’t come out here often?”

Stella sighed, letting her hand slack.

“I haven’t had the time. I mean, it’s not like I can really take a bus or anything out here...and I’m not a fan of your portable oven as transportation either.”

“Clearly.” Warren remarked, pouting. Then, he questioned, “If you could come here as much as you wanted to..would you?”

“In a heartbeat.” Stella responded. She picked up the stick and raked it in the sand. “It’d be better than what I usually do when I’m stressed. If my parents knew about it, they’d kill me.”

Warren lifted his eyebrows, glancing around and lowering his voice as if afraid somebody was eavesdropping. “What do you usually do?”

Stella pursed her lips together, eyeing Warren intently. “You promise you won’t tell?” She inquired, serious.

Warren placed a hand over his heart. “Scout’s honor.” He grinned dorkily. Stella exhaled deeply, then nodded.

“Believe it or not, but..I use drugs to help me stay focused.” She admitted, looking ashamed. “Weed, pills, things like that.”

Warren took in the information, and in his shock, could only breath a tiny, “Huh.”

He had difficulty imagining somebody like Stella barricaded in her room, a baggie filled with weed lying in front of her, eyes rimmed red. That seemed like something more appropriately reserved for Nathan, who always looked like he was under some kind of influence. Seriously, Warren didn’t think he’s ever seen Nathan’s eyes look clear before, only hazy and unfocused. He knew it wasn’t really his business, but Warren couldn’t help feeling slightly bothered by it.

“You look stunned.” Stella commented at his lack of response.

Warren shook his head, dispelling his intrusive thoughts. “No..well, I mean...it’s kind of surprising, I guess.”

“I know, it’s pretty bad.” Stella conceded. “I hate imagining how my parents would react to it.”

Warren imagined how his parents would react to him using recreational drugs. He can see them picturing it as a joke at first, but then when he established the fact that he wasn’t fooling around with them, they would perform a full search of his room and take away his stuff, more than likely to ground him until he was 20. Yeah, not exactly ideal.

Stella had her reasons, though. Not everybody could haul through the semester on pure endurance alone. Sometimes people just had to take a break and learn to accept the fact that it’s okay to not be okay. Warren was still trying to teach that to himself.

“Hey, Warren?”

Warren perked up. “Yeah?” He questioned, shifting. He dragged his gaze from Stella’s little doodles to the side of her head, eyes rounded.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Warren wasn’t sure why such a basic question threw him off, but he easily recovered. “I don’t know...blue, I guess.”

Stella pushed her sloping glasses back up on her nose, returning to her doodling. “Why?”

He wouldn’t say that because Max’s eyes were blue that he deemed it his prefered color, but he couldn’t help the tiny smile that pulled at his lips thinking about it. “It’s a nice color. Easy on the eyes.” Warren answered. Stella nodded absently, now twirling the stick into the sand.

“What’s yours?” He returned the question at her silence. Stella gave him a small glance, prior to settling her stare on the horizon.

“Orange.”

Warren smiled, and he too looked out at the sun’s reflection glistening on the water. “I can see why.” He said thoughtfully.

Quietude laced itself between them again, but Warren honestly didn’t mind it too much. Words didn’t need to be said over the delicate breeze or the seagulls’ cries from above. There was enough of a soundtrack to indicate the sense of ease the two of them equally felt. Warren wished he could stay in this moment forever.

A sudden sharp pain surging alongside his temple made that notion shatter into a million pieces; Warren doubled over, clutching his head at the dreadfully familiar pain.

_Rain. Dozens of students gathered together. A figure overlooking them all. Screams. Blood._

“Kate!” Warren cried, snapping his head up as the vision dissipated from his mind.

No. No, no, no, _no!_ Kate. She was going to kill herself. Just like in his horrible nightmare. Jesus, one of the main things Warren had hoped would have been disproven from his nightmare was Kate committing suicide. But it was real. Fuck, it was real! Kate was going to die!

A hand fell on his shoulder, and not having expected it, Warren gasped and fell backwards on his posterior, staring at the culprit with frenzied eyes.

“Warren, what’s wrong?” Stella asked, retracting her hand at his violent reaction. “You’re pale.”

Warren greedily inhaled as much air as he could, feeling like he had been dunked underwater. “We...we have to get back to Blackwell.” He explained, voice trembling terribly. Stella’s eyebrows scrunched, and she parted her lips, most likely in opposition.

Warren cut in before she could speak. “Trust me, Stella, something really bad is going to happen if we―”

The sound of his phone buzzing in his back pocket made Warren trail off, and he pulled it out in a flash. His hand shook as he read the text.

 

**_[Mad Max, Today at 10:55 A.M.]_ **

 

_get back to blackwell ASAP, @ the dorms, quixk, its Kate_

 

“Warren?” Stella’s worried voice seized Warren from the brink of absolute despair. He swallowed thickly and stood up.

“We have to go, Stel. Come on.” He insisted, his legs threatening to crumple beneath him. Stella nodded stiffly, leading the way back to the car.

 

~

 

In no way did Warren condone reckless drivers and their behavior, but at the moment, he wasn’t sure that he gave a damn about any of that. He was surpassing every speeding limit there was, urging his car to the threshold. Stella expertly gave him the directions back, and Warren accommodated to it, hopping to the next lane if need be. It began to rain on their way back, Warren flipping on the windshield wipers that surprisingly enough, worked just fine.

It was truly a wonder that he hadn’t went scuttering off the road in his rush, or be pulled over by a nearby cop, but Warren managed to make it back to Blackwell’s campus about three times as sooner as he anticipated. By then, the school was already blanketed in a sheen of newfangled rain, dark and dreary. It was a complete opposite from the warm sun and playful breeze Warren had basked in at the beach.

After bidding Stella a hasty thanks for the breakfast, Warren raced across the parking lot, over the soaked front of the main building, and to the dormitories, slamming open the door and startling a skittish brunette poised by the railing.

“Max.” Warren gulped, out of breath from his run. His hair was slicked and plastered to the sides of his face awkwardly. He extended out his arms for an embrace and Max briefly fell into it, hugging him with relief.

“Thank god you’re here, Warren. I didn’t think you’d make it in time.” She said while pulling away. Warren already craved the contact again.

“I got here as fast as I could.” He replied, face turning grim. “Kate’s gonna..”

Max nodded bleakly, but her eyes were filled with resolve. “We can save her, Warren.” She stated. “I still remember some of the things I told her last time to talk her out of it, but if we do this right, we can stop her from even setting foot on the roof.”

Right. Warren almost forgot what Max had told him. That she had ‘lived’ through this week before. She knew what was going to happen, and this just happened to be one of those things. Warren was glad to know that he wasn’t going crazy, that these premonitions he was having wasn’t just a telltale sign of his dissolving sanity. But that didn’t mean Warren wanted them to be veritable either.

He glanced around. “Where’s Kate then?”

Just as Warren asked this, the door he had just come through flew open once more, though not nearly as forceful as Warren had opened it. The rain-drenched face of Kate Marsh appeared, regarding the two with wet eyes.

“Max. Warren.”

Max made the move first, apparently going in for a hug. But to both her and Warren’s astonishment, Kate evaded the hug, shoving Max’s arms away.

“Don’t touch me right now, Max.” Kate commanded, a level of authority in her voice that Warren never heard her use before. Even Max seemed startled, letting her arms sink at her sides.

“Kate, please, I know what you’re going to do, and believe me when I say that’s not the answer.” Max pleaded. Warren came up behind her, Kate briefly narrowing her eyes at his presence before turning back to Max. Her face twined with accusation.

“You don’t know anything, Max.” She fired back. “I’ve been feeling like this for days now, and when I try to reach out to you, you don’t seem to care. It’s like you’re hardly at school anymore. You’re never here when I need you the most.”

Max fell quiet at this, form awash with guilt. Warren automatically came to her defense.

“Kate, listen, we do care about you. _Max_ cares about you. She came all this way because she didn’t want to see you go through this alone.” Warren explained, heart thumping in his chest. If he failed at this…

Kate shook her head, his words having no visible effect, much to his dismay. “If she ‘cared’ so much, then I wouldn’t be in this situation now.” She hissed. With that, Kate stalked past both of them, her tears restarting and echoing off the walls while she traveled up the roof. Max seemed to forgot her guilt and pulled Warren along, the two heading up as well. The cold rainwater hit Warren’s face at full force as the door creaked open, but he only had eyes for the girl standing on the edge of the dorms.

Warren’s hands trembled when Kate’s leg slowly moved forward, and he cried out for her in utmost desperation. _“Kate!”_

Kate harrowingly threw a gaze over her shoulder, rotating her body around so that she faced both Max and Warren.

“Why won’t you two just leave me alone?!” She cried. Max tried to take a step forward, but Kate stopped her. “Stop! Don’t come near me!”

Max nodded, and Warren regarded her with concern. He trusted Max fully, but there was always the possibility of messing this up.

“I’m serious, Max. And you too, Warren.” Kate looked in Warren’s direction. “Don’t come near me. I will jump.” She threatened. Warren swallowed, feeling utterly useless.

“Okay, okay, Kate. I won’t come closer, but please...don’t do this.” Max tried in a wavering voice.

“But there’s no hope for me anymore, Max.” Kate insisted. “If there’s anything I learned here, it’s that I don’t matter. Nothing matters.”

Max shook her head, and gestured to herself and Warren. “You _do_ matter.” She protested earnestly. “Not just to me, but to Warren too.”

“Yeah, Kate.” Warren spoke up, trying to find his words. “You matter to me, and a whole lot of other people here at Blackwell.”

“I do want to believe that…” Kate admitted sadly.

Max subtly came forward a bit, as did Warren. “Kate, your life is still yours. And we can help you get through this together...Let us help.” She implored.

Kate seemed to consider this, but her feet remained glued to the threshold. Max went on, “What about all that crap people wrote about you on your room slate? I erased it for you, to help you.”

Just the tiniest fraction of a smile appeared on Kate’s lips, but it quickly died. “Thanks for that, but I needed you more when I called to actually talk. You seemed to be in such a rush to hang up, which was when I needed a friend. Warren’s the only one who actually seems to give a damn about me.”

Warren could see Max floundering for an answer, and he sensed that as the moment to talk for her. “Kate, Max does care about you, just like I do. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be trying to talk you down now.” He reasoned.

Kate focused her attention on Warren, her tightened expression easing up a bit. “I know you care, Warren. You actually made an effort to try and talk to me, and for a moment, I thought maybe there was someone here with some compassion.”

“Kate, you’re my friend. Friends are supposed to help each other out.” Warren said.

“I thought so too. But what about this morning when I asked you for your help? You told me to do nothing!” Kate suddenly indicted, making Warren hesitate. He wanted to say that he was in the process of conducting his own investigation, but judging by the look Max was giving him, that wouldn’t smooth over too well.

Instead, he said, “I was looking for proof, Kate. You told me that you thought Nathan drugged you, and I believed it, so I wanted to help you prove it.”

Kate’s eyes widened partially. “Nathan Prescott?” She questioned, then pressed her lips together. “That makes sense...He’s a scumbag. You have proof now?”

“I will soon.” Warren assured her. “The second I do, we’re going to the police and taking Nathan down once and for all.”

Kate’s eyes brightened in gratitude. “You do have my back, Warren. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” She said.

“Please, come down now, Kate.” Max suddenly begged, intercepting the conversation. “This is our chance to beat the bullies. That’s the only way we can beat them.”

Kate turned to Max despairingly. “Can we really, Max? I don’t believe in miracles anymore either.”

“Now I do.” Max responded, tone more tender and conciliating. “And you’re definitely part of the reason why. If you come down with Warren and I, I can tell you more.” She promised, completely genuine. Warren nodded.

Kate smiled. “You’re such a good person, Max. Even if you’re full of crap. But I’ll come with you guys...you’re my friends.”

Both Max and Warren reached for Kate as she came forward, collapsing into their hold.

“I’m sorry...sorry.” She apologized softly. Warren rubbed circles into her back comfortingly, as he couldn’t bring himself to say anything in response.

“Don’t be sorry, Kate.” Max insisted, sharing a glance with Warren. He nodded, trying to swallow back the nauseating adrenaline he still felt.

 

~

 

“Now, I know today was difficult for everybody,” Principal Wells began, standing tall and broad behind an imposing desk. “But I’m so proud of the way Blackwell pulled together to save a young girl’s life.” He dragged his gaze from the window to Max and Warren, who were seated obediently before him. “Of course, you two are quite the heroes for getting Kate to come down.”

Warren merely shrugged, feeling woefully out of place in the remarkably pristine office.

“We didn’t do much.” Max said.

“She’s modest. Like a real hero.” Jefferson commented from where he was standing beside Warren. Mr. Madsen snorted bitterly.

“Yeah, _‘Real Hero’.”_

Principal Wells gave him a slanderous look, prior to turning away to gaze out the window again. “As principal of Blackwell Academy, I take my duties seriously.” He said. “I take the well-being of every student more seriously. What happened today should never happen in a hall of wisdom and knowledge…”

Warren meant no harm, but as Principal Wells droned on and on, he found himself zoning out. _Another vision_ , but he changed the outcome. No..him and _Max_ changed the outcome. Kate was alive. She wasn’t dead and bleeding on the ground like in that terrible dream and vision. Pulling her down from the literal edge of death felt like an out-of-body experience, one that utterly rocked Warren’s equilibrium. Just acknowledging the fact that Max had done this before made his head spin, and he had so many questions, but trying to figure out where to start was near impossible.

“...something was amiss. Mr. Prescott, since you are responsible for the Vortex Club parties, and since Miss Marsh did attend your last party, you’ll have to answer some more questions.” Warren tuned back in and looked over at Nathan, who didn’t look too happy about the obligation, but held his tongue.

Principal Wells turned on Warren and Max next. “Mr. Graham, Miss Caulfield, why exactly were you two on the roof with Kate Marsh?” He inquired astutely. “Did she tell you her plan? Or anything at all? Please, tell us everything.”

Shit. Warren’s mouth went dry, unable to provide a believable answer. What was he supposed to say? One wrong word, and Warren could kiss his scholarship goodbye. Warren looked to Max for support, who luckily, appeared much more kept together than Warren felt.

“All I know is that Kate was at a party and was dosed by Nathan.” Max informed, keeping her voice steady. “She was wasted and kissed some boys on a viral video without a clue.”

Principal Wells raised a brow, and Nathan sat up in disbelief. _“I_ dosed her? Without a clue?” He repeated. “Have you seen the video? Whatever. Kate was loaded and playing the field―” Max interrupted him.

“You’re lying and you know it. You told Kate you took her to the emergency room!” Nathan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I said I was _going_ to take her to the emergency room.” He corrected. “She sobered up eventually.”

“Bullshit!” Max persisted vulgarly. “Something happened to her, and you’re refusing to admit it. Just like yesterday, when you were waving that gun around in the girls’ bathroom―”

“Hey, that’s total slander!” Nathan hissed. “I could sue you and this school so fast!...I already have a personal lawyer.”

Warren froze.

Nathan..was in the girls’ bathroom yesterday? With a gun? And Max was there too? Then that meant…

That meant his dream was real. Everything he saw in it, it had to have been real. Somehow, his mind had conjured images of yesterday’s events, including Nathan and his showdown with the blue-haired girl. Max had called her Chloe. Warren didn’t know anybody named Chloe, so why did that name sound so familiar?

As Warren skewered his brain for an answer, Principal Wells held up a hand, his face suddenly dawning with accusation. “Wait, Max. You told me that nothing happened yesterday.” He reminded. Max seemed to remember this as well, for her face briefly flashed in regret. “Are you just making things up? How can I trust you?” Principal Wells demanded, crossing his arms.

“You can’t.” Mr. Madsen piped up, jumping at the chance to rub salt in the wound. “She’s smoking and selling dope, not saving lives!”

Max scowled, “No, I’m not and that has nothing to do with Kate Marsh!” She rebutted, outraged. Warren had no idea what they were talking about, but he could easily see where this conversation was headed. Sure enough, Principal Wells sighed, eyes dimming with disapproval.

“I’ll have to investigate to see if this accusation is true. Therefore Max, I’m obliged to contact your parents and suspend you for a few days.” He declared somberly.

Warren’s mouth gaped, turning to see Max defeatedly slink back in her seat with a languished sigh. Did she know this was going to happen?

Out the corner of his eye, Warren spied the pure shit eating grin Nathan adorned, obviously happy with the outcome. The mere sight ticked him off.

Jefferson voiced his stance, “Excuse me, I think these three need a break before we grill them any further.” He suggested. “A friend and student just tried to kill herself. They don’t need this forum right now.”

“Yes, I’m kinda devastated right now.” Nathan agreed, falsifying sympathy. “I’d like to be with my family.”

 _Sure you do, asshole._ Warren thought angrily.

Principal Wells bowed his head. “Alright, Miss Caulfield, Mr. Graham, please sign here to confirm what you’ve told us. I’ll continue this investigation from there.”

He slid a single piece of paper towards the two of them, Warren letting Max sign it first, before putting his messy scription down next. He didn’t know why, but Warren felt like he had just signed a contract with Death himself.

 

~

 

“Talk about a weird fucking day.” Warren muttered, head buried in his hands. They sat on the steps of the main campus, the sun preparing to vanish beyond the horizon. It was almost like the rain was never there to begin with. Max offered him a supportive smile.

“I’m glad you were there with me this time.” She said truthfully. “You made it a little easier.”

“My hands are still shaking.” Warren emitted a weak chuckle, facing Max beseechingly. “How the hell did you do it last time?” Max looked away, solemnly recounting the recent events. Or, were they the past events? Fuck, he didn’t know anymore.

“To tell you the truth,” Max began, “I’m not sure. I just...said the things I thought were right. I don’t think I ever felt so scared before in my life. It didn’t help that I had to experience that feeling all over again.”

Warren furrowed his brows, heart aching in his chest. He gently nudged Max’s leg with his own. “Hey.” He said, making Max turn and look at him. “You’re still braver than anyone I know. Sure, you had to save Kate again, but that’s just the thing: you saved Kate _again._ Nobody else I know could’ve done that.”

“That’s probably because people don’t live through the same week twice.” Max replied bitterly. Warren squeezed her shoulder, hoping to convey the message that he was with her. She passed a grateful smile in return.

“Thanks, Warren.” She said. Warren nodded, allowing his hand to fall from her shoulder. They sat in silence for a while, just gazing out the campus with similar expressions. Warren was still trying to accept the fact that he had some kind of powers, powers of which had already proven themselves to be lifesaving. He had always wanted to be like his favorite superheroes, but now that he actually was, Warren didn’t realize how much he would miss being ordinary.

Come to think of it, Warren was practically a sidekick. Max’s sidekick that is. They both had some powers and otherworldly knowledge that separated them from everybody else. Warren wasn’t too sure exactly what kind of powers Max had, but apparently they allowed her to go back in time. Maybe she was some kind of time traveler? Did that mean she could go into the future too?

“Warren,” Max suddenly spoke up, pulling Warren out his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Could you keep another secret for now?”

Warren sat up, focusing on Max intently. “Of course, Max. What is it?” He asked.

Max rubbed her arms and bit her lip, wondering if she should say what was on her mind. Eventually, she did. “Mr. Jefferson isn’t who you think he is.” She admitted, meeting Warren’s eyes. “He seems like a cool, kind teacher, but trust me when I say that he’s the exact opposite.”

When Warren didn’t say anything, Max continued, “I’ve..I’ve seen some of the things he’s done in the other timeline, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to let him near you.” She said, face hardening. “Warren, I’m going to find a way to take him down, but you have to promise me that you won’t get involved.”

“Max―” Warren started.

Max’s pleading, desperate doe eyes stopped Warren’s protest dead in his throat. He sighed deeply, not wanting to agree to such a thing, but he didn’t want to upset Max either. Warren didn’t know much about Jefferson, except for the fact that he made teenage girls swoon by the numbers. Even Max, at one point, much to his annoyance. To see her now hold this strong of a conviction against the teacher gave off the impression to Warren that whatever he did was absolutely detestable, something that Max was trying to protect him from.

_Still..._

“Warren, promise me.”

Warren would _never_ forgive himself if something happened to Max.

“I promise.”

Even though he felt bad about lying to Max, knowing their friendship would be wounded beyond repair if his plan failed, Warren knew it would pay off in the long run.

Just as he said that, his eyes fell upon the darkening sun.

A solar eclipse.

“The storm’s coming, Warren.” Max whispered, staring at the eclipse. Warren swallowed, throat going dry again, and he kept his gaze on the horizon as well. On instinct, he scooted closer to Max, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him.

Maybe the end of the world was arriving sooner than he thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12k words later and still no (official) Grahamscott? Damn, gotta fix that next chapter. Anyway, as always, thanks for reading. :)


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yo, yo, update time~ Wrote this chapter pretty fast, mostly because I didn't go the extra mile and write like, 10k words like I did last time. Gotta keep it simple somehow. If I keep up with this pace, updates can come quicker, and the story won't be stalled, so yay. But anyway, hope you enjoy, and as always, criticism is welcome. :)

He couldn’t have been in there for more than five minutes, and already Nathan wanted to bail on this shit. The seat underneath him was crinkly and undeniably old, occasionally pinching at him as he shifted restlessly within its confines. Accompanied with the stale, musty smell of the office, it was enough to make anybody recoil. Still, Nathan hid his discomfort behind a carefully practiced poker face, keeping his eyes ahead. It was definitely a challenge, with Jefferson only a few feet away, Madsen and Officer Berry to his right, and Max fucking Caulfield to his direct left.

The pixie hipster didn’t so much as glance at Nathan when she walked in, instead making a beeline to the seat beside him while Warren took the one next to her. She didn’t seem to be too bothered by the fact that she had been christened into Wells’ office. Her expression was cool and collected, hands crossed lightly, normally parted lips glued shut. Nathan’s fingers twitched just looking at her, but when he gave the smallest turn of his head and saw Jefferson’s eyes glint faintly, he knew it was for a completely different reason.

Nathan didn’t, and would probably never understand Jefferson’s hard on for her. She was plain, much more so than most of the girls at Blackwell, and it didn’t help that she practically lived behind the lens of her camera. If she had some semblance of a personality, she sure as hell didn’t show it.

“Now I know today was difficult for everybody. But I’m so proud of the way Blackwell pulled together to save a young girl’s life.” Nathan actually made an effort to crane his neck towards Principal Wells, eyes wrought with boredom and disconcern. The words were coming out, but they weren’t sticking. Then again, Nathan had stopped listening to Wells a long time ago.

He automatically blocked everything out, trying to reassemble his scattered thoughts. For some reason, he couldn’t shake the image of Kate on the roof, soaked from head to toe, boring over the entirety of Blackwell. She had been so desperate to find some reprieve that she was willing to splatter her own fucking brains in front of the dorms. In front of everybody.

In front of him.

The thought made Nathan suddenly shudder, though internally. It wasn’t like he wasn’t accustomed to seeing gruesome, fucked up shit, but somehow with Kate, it was different. It was, after all, his fault that everybody had turned on her. He had taken that image of the perfect, celibate little church girl and twisted it into something reviled, taunted by everyone. Kate nearly _died,_ just because Nathan had been too afraid for people to see the true side of him. The side, that if it were to be brought to the surface, would unequivocally destroy his life.

His dad would disown him, Victoria would hate him, his sister wouldn’t even fucking talk to him, and everybody would just see him for who he really was, buried underneath the muck of lies that obscured his secrets.

A fuck up.

A freak.

A fucking _psycho._

Everything that he assured himself he was eons ago, even before Rachel left. Maybe he should’ve been the one to jump off the dorms instead.

“...something was amiss. Mr. Prescott,” Nathan blinked and narrowed his eyes at the address, focusing on the intense gaze Principal Wells was directing him. Clearly he noticed he had zoned out, but didn’t have the balls to call him out on it. “Since you are responsible for the Vortex Club parties, and since Miss Marsh did attend your last party, you’ll have to answer some more questions.”

Anger immediately coiled around Nathan’s hands at the obligation, his previously slack fingers going vice like on the arms of the chair. Knowing something putridly vile was going to spew from his lips if he tried to protest, Nathan clamped down on his tongue and forced a stiff, vaguely mechanical nod.

Acknowledging that as the best he was going to receive in terms of compliance with Nathan, Principal Wells looked to Max and Warren. “Mr. Graham, Miss Caulfield,” He wound his hands behind his large back, keeping a formal, leveled tone that edged on genuine curiosity. “Why exactly were you two on the roof with Kate Marsh? Did she tell you her plan? Or anything at all? Please, tell us everything.”

The lack of immediate response from either parties drew Nathan’s attention. His muddy blue eyes roved over to peer at the brunettes beside him, particularly at Max. That impassive look of hers was starting to grate on Nathan’s nerves in a strangely irritating way. It was hard to explain, but Nathan couldn’t help but wonder exactly how Max managed to remain so outwardly unfrazzled.

“All I know is that Kate was at a party and was dosed by Nathan.” Nathan felt his hackles rise at the statement, body bristling with a rage that made his form resemble something akin to a pissed off cat. “She was wasted and kissed some boys on a viral video without a clue.”

A breathless scoff escaped Nathan’s no longer sealed lips, and he verged on Max with a deadly intent. _“I_ dosed her? ‘Without a clue’? Have you seen the video?” Nathan convulsed his hand lackadaisically, letting his back collapse into the seat when Max gave him nothing more than an equally stern, silent glare. “Whatever. Kate was loaded and playing the field―”

“You’re lying and you know it.” Max suddenly hissed, her voice rising alongside her audacity. The abrupt display of boldness startled Nathan into quieting himself, but he allowed his lip to curl belligerently. Even though he was glaring at Max, he could see Jefferson’s shooting daggers at him out his peripherals. Not that he gave a shit. “You told Kate you took her to the emergency room!”

Another scoff and the irresistible urge to roll his eyes flowed out of the Prescott. “I told her I was _going_ to take her to the emergency room. She sobered up eventually.”

Max’s doe-like eyes darkened with accusation, her face reddening. “Bullshit! Something happened to her and you’re refusing to admit it.” She straightened up a bit in her seat, keeping her arms clasped taut in her lap. “Just like yesterday, when you were waving that gun around in the girl’s bathroom―”

The fury that Nathan had been delicately trying to contain reemerged its ugly head with a vengeance. His fingers ached from how tight he was now gripping the cusps of the chair. “Hey, that’s total slander! I could sue you and this school so fast!” It took almost everything in his power to swallow back what he really wanted to say, but knowing Officer Berry was standing idly by in clear earshot, he thought better of it. A somewhat derisive smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth. “I already have a personal lawyer.”

Max didn’t reply to that, settling for having a heated eye contest with Nathan. If he wasn’t so keen on intimidating her, Nathan almost would’ve been impressed by her mettle. Maybe the broad wasn’t as spineless as he originally gathered.

“Wait, Max,” Principal Wells stole Max’s attention with a gruff interjection, the pixie-haired girl fretfully tearing her stare away from Nathan’s. “You told me nothing happened yesterday. Are you just making things up? How can I trust you?” Seeing those deep set eyes lower and suited arms cross, Nathan roused with smug interest. So, she didn’t spill the beans like he thought. The piece of information was assuring, though Nathan simultaneously wondered if it was only because she didn’t want him coming after her. Sucks for her though; it was still futile either way.

Nathan raised a brow as he peeked out Mr. Madsen straightening up from where he had been mostly inert beside Officer Berry. “You can’t.” He spat from hair draped lips. “She’s smoking and selling dope, not saving lives!” As nearly every pair of eyes turned to Max, she balled her fists against her thighs and lashed out:

“No, I’m not and that has nothing to do with Kate Marsh!”

Turning to gauge Principal Wells’ reaction, Nathan felt a surge of triumph fill him when he saw his weary expression fall with censure.

Sure enough, he sighed, “I’ll have to investigate to see if this accusation is true. Therefore Max, I’m obliged to contact your parents and suspend you for a few days.”

Max’s face went slack with shock, but she ultimately didn’t do anything more than lower herself into the seat, sighing. The sight wormed a victorious grin onto Nathan’s lips.

Like Wells would actually believe her over him. Ha, as if.

Nathan’s brief moment of triumph was dashed by Jefferson softly clearing his throat. “Excuse me, I think these three need a break before we grill them any further.” The overly saccharine tone of his voice made Nathan want to gag. “A friend and fellow student just tried to kill herself. They don’t need this forum right now.”

Though Nathan wasn’t the least bit pleased to have _Jefferson_ of all people trying to bail him out of staying a moment longer, if the opportunity presented itself, he sure as hell was going to take it.

“Yes, I’m kinda devastated right now. I’d like to be with my family.” Nathan lied clean through his teeth. Fuck no, he didn’t want to be with his parents, but it was the easiest excuse he could think of, and he was getting increasingly antsy the longer his ass became a permanent mold in the cushions.

Luckily, Principal Wells bought it. “Alright, Miss Caulfield, Mr. Graham please sign here to confirm what you’ve told us. I’ll continue this investigation from there.” A crisp document was put before Max and Warren, the two signing it in a hurry. Guess he wasn’t the only one trying to get the hell out of here.

“Well, I think we know less now than when we started.” Wells quipped dryly as he recollected the paper. His expression, however, becoming doused with sympathy. “We’ll be assisting the police with further inquiries. I know this has been a stressful day...I wish I had the power to change it all for the better… So, thank you for coming in.”

 _You’re not welcome,_ Nathan wanted to snap back, but he just stood up wordlessly to head to the door. He made sure to toss a spiteful glare at Wells before he left, sauntering out with his typical swagger.

 

~

 

The reassuring taste of ash from the cigarette almost immediately melted away some of the tension still wound in Nathan’s shoulders, his head falling back to rest against the brick wall lazily. His lips fell open and he watched as the smoke that was swirled in his lungs gusted into the breeze, leaving him forever.

He needed this so damn much.

It was astounding just how badly he had the urge to light up after the meeting. Once he was sure nobody was looking for him, Nathan covertly slinked out the backdoor and hid against the side of the building. It was by no means an arcane spot, with profound graffiti scribbled on the wall and countless cigarette butts littered at his feet. Regardless, Nathan took his place against a relatively untouched surface, tucking in a leg while letting the other lay straight out.

The comfortable, and vaguely lethargic position allowed him to think. To _plan_.

As much as he wished he was just hallucinating it, Nathan had definitely seen the look in Jefferson’s eyes as he sized up Max. Despite a day barely having elapsed yet, Nathan knew that he was getting impatient. That predatory, yearning gaze was one that oozed with desire, as sick and twisted as that sounded. But Nathan had seen it before. Seen it in Jefferson as he eagerly took pictures of the girls that had fallen into his trap like a moth to a flame. That _he_ had helped become lured in. Nathan gradually developed the ability to ignore it, though he couldn’t resist the disgusted scrunch of his nose while Jefferson would giddily ready the photoshoot.

...If it could even be called that anymore.

Taking pictures wasn’t supposed to make you feel like you committed murder. It wasn’t supposed to make you feel dirty and _wrong,_ like you wanted to take a dozen showers but would still feel the filth of it no matter how many droplets you watched vanish down the drain.

Nathan felt that anytime they did photoshoots now. It used to be fun, something he’d actually look forward to after an especially shitty day. Putting together actual photographs that wasn’t of some helpless, incognizant broad that had been the latest apple of Jefferson’s eye.

But that was then, when he was nothing more than a spineless sophomore who clung to his portfolio for dear life. Very rarely did he let people see them, and when he did, they always gave him this weirded out look, questioning why his pictures were always so ‘dark’ and ‘creepy’. And Nathan would always respond that it was simply his style of choice, but as time went on, he started explaining less and less, and just simply took pictures the way he saw fit.

Nobody saw the appeal in his macabre photos, not even Victoria. Of course, she didn’t flat out say it to his face, but Nathan could tell it unnerved her just about as much as everybody else. So when Jefferson came along, and expressed genuine interest in Nathan’s photos, that was all she wrote.

Nathan wished he had declined the offer when he had the chance. Now his best friend was at risk, as was his future if his dad ever caught wind of it, and he had no idea how he was going to earn enough trust from Max’s friends in order to deliver her to Jefferson.

The obscenity of it all made Nathan want to be on the receiving end of a cold, steel coated bullet fired from the chamber of his own gun. It’d be easier than trying to keep up with this shitty game of charades.

“Fuck..” Nathan muffled a cough as he unintentionally gulped down some of the smoke, but the quivering burn in his lungs was a welcomed one. As he slowly recoated the end of his gradually dying cigarette with his lips, Nathan jumped slightly when he felt his phone go off in his rear pocket. Knowing exactly which one it was, Nathan pawed irritably at his backside before managing to slip his fingers into the little pouch and whip out the phone.

Blue eyes flickered with contempt as the phone rattled boisterously in his palm, call waiting to be accepted or declined. After taking an intentionally long, squinty-eyed drag from his cigarette, Nathan hit the answer button.

“What is it t―”

_“Care to explain what Miss Caulfield meant by ‘waving a gun around in the girls’ bathroom yesterday’?”_

Gritting his teeth, Nathan didn’t even try to conceal his annoyance at the question. Blowing out a puff of gray smoke, he grumbled, “Bitch didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. She was just trying to say whateverthefuck she could to save her ass.”

 _“If there’s something you’re not telling me, Nathan..”_ Jefferson’s voice lowered into a threatening growl. Normally it would’ve been enough to quell his irascibility, but with a rapidly growing headache and lack of sleep fit to kill, Nathan wasn’t intimidated in the least. Pinching his cigarette between his index and middle finger, Nathan leaned into the phone and hissed, “There’s nothing to _fucking_ tell. I took care of it already, so get the hell off my crack.”

Judging by the way Jefferson went dead silent on the other line, Nathan’s words seemed to have hit home. For a moment, he almost believed that he hung up, then he heard a sharp intake of air, indicating that Mark was still very much on the line. The cocky, self-satisfied smirk he had teasing on his lips died the moment he heard the next words spoken:

_“Be at the barn tonight, and don’t be late.”_

A click, then a few beeps, and Nathan was left alone once more. He stood there for a few lingering seconds after the call ended, still hovering the phone near his earlobe. The sounds of his own breaths and rustling of the trees nearby were the only thing he could hear over his ringing shock. Once he started to feel the too-close heat of the burning cigarette creep up his fingertips, Nathan clicked his teeth and tossed it on the ground.

Dammit.

It wasn’t like he could exactly say no to Jefferson. Nah, if Jefferson fucking wanted something, Nathan was supposed to drop everything on a dime and adhere to his beck and motherfucking call like some kind of pack animal.

In fact, Jefferson pretty much talked to Nathan like he walked on four legs instead of two. Frankly, it wore him thin, and Nathan was just blissfully awaiting the day when he would finally fall apart altogether. With the way things were going, he figured that day was approaching very soon.

Running a hand through his caramel locks roughly, Nathan gave a small growl and pushed himself off the wall, migrating into the sunlight bathed campus. If he didn’t know better, he wouldn’t have guessed that a girl had nearly killed herself this morning. It was a strange contrast from the previously dark and dreary haze from earlier, but it somewhat helped soothe Nathan’s fried brain. As he walked, Nathan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, absently fingering at the pack of  his remaining cigarettes, eyes roaming.

His mouth twitched in a tiny scowl when he saw Max and Warren sitting on the steps in front of the building, wanting to sneer at how close they were sitting. From this distance, it looked like they were staring right back at him, but examining closer, he saw the upward tilt of their chins directed towards the sky, fixated on whatever it was. Nathan’s own blossoming curiosity forced him to mimic their actions, and he followed their gazes to lock onto the sky. He promptly shot up a brow at the sight.

_What the hell?_

The sun was blotted out, almost entirely overtaken by the moon, leaving it an eerily dark shadow in the horizon. A solar eclipse. Nathan hadn’t seen one of those in years, something that legitimately baffled him to see show up out of the blue. Shaking his head, Nathan placed a cigarette between his lips but didn’t light it, continuing his trek to the dorms. Between the snow yesterday and and now this, Nathan wouldn’t be surprised if a fucking hurricane showed up the next day.

If it did, maybe he could be swept up along with it.

 

~

 

“Vic?” Nathan softly enunciated at the wooden foundations of the door. He affixed his call with three consecutive, coarse knocks, wincing slightly at the excess force he put into them. Being gentle was nowhere near his forte, but the sheer fact that this was Victoria had coerced him into making an effort. She had been absolutely hysterical after the whole Kate situation, guilt eating her up from the inside at the thought of being the reason why. Nathan tried asserting his comfort through text, but part of him knew that being there physically for her was what Victoria needed more than anything.

After pushing down his own indecision and culpability, Nathan headed over to the girls’ dorms, clutching a bottle of wine in the inside of his jacket. After seeing Officer Berry in Wells’ office, there was no way Nathan was going to sample the chance of getting busted for having alcohol on campus. Considering Officer Berry was indebted to the Prescotts, anything that seemed even remotely suspicious that Nathan did was reported directly to his father. It didn’t help that Nathan and Officer Berry had a strained relationship to begin with either―ratting him out to his dad only gave Nathan all the more justification to hate him.

“Victoria?” Nathan asked, a little louder this time. When he didn’t get an answer, Nathan awkwardly pressed an ear against the door, listening inside. Faint, just barely audible sniffles could be heard inside, clearly stifled by hands. Of course, she was crying. Biting his lower lip, Nathan turned back forward, a low sigh escaping his throat as he realized he was just going to have to walk in. Raking his free hand through his hair, Nathan subconsciously smoothed out the wrinkles of his jacket, fingers clinking the bottle slightly.

He was no good at this―hell, he hardly kept himself together. But, Victoria had always been there for him, hadn’t she? Even when Nathan was at his very worst, Victoria was the only one willing to truly reach out to him, to help him. She became the crutch he fell back on whenever he couldn’t stand on his own, so why the hell shouldn’t he do the same?

With that reflection firmly set in mind, Nathan rolled his neck once, a small attempt at instilling confidence in himself, before reaching out to grasp the knob. The cold metal under his palm grounded him, and before he could convince himself to back out of it, the door was already easing open and he was standing in the newly opened doorway.

Victoria didn’t immediately turn and look to see who it was. She kneeled on the precipice of her bed, back curved in, palms concealing her face and thighs pressed tightly together. Once she became aware that she was no longer alone, she lowered her hands to face Nathan with glossy brown eyes, wiping a stray tear that dared to cross down her face.

“Nate.”

Nathan accorded her a small, empathetic smile, the gesture feeling forced on his part.

 

~

 

A few hours later, Nathan was pleasantly delighted to find himself intoxicated, eyes leisurely gazing up at Victoria’s eggshell white ceiling from where he laid on her bed. His chest felt warm, and his ears buzzed faintly, the combination nearly lulling him to sleep. Beside him, Victoria reclined her body into a slouched sit, knees almost against her chest. In her hand was the nearly depleted bottle of wine, an accessory Nathan was happy to know came in handy after all.

When he first pulled it out, Victoria instantly gave a bewildered blink, scrunching her nose in distaste before Nathan had coaxed her into taking a sip. Needless to say, she ended up liking it.

As she tipped her head back, preparing to down another swig, Nathan released a throaty chuckle. When he spoke, his voice was a purr, borderline coquettish. “Take it easy, Vic. Don’t drink it too fast.” Victoria halted mid-motion, lowering the bottle to eye Nathan with slightly flushed features. Whether it was from the wine or from being ousted for her rigorous drinking, he wasn’t sure. Probably both.

“Mm..yeah, sorry.” She answered, sheepish, wiping the edge of her mouth with her wrist and taking away some lipstick in the process. It wasn’t long before the bottle was brought to her lips again, but this time she merely sipped at it sparingly. Nathan watched her in silent curiosity as she drank, sighing the moment her mouth left the rim of the bottle.

“What’s the matter?” Nathan prompted after a few beats, words slightly slurred, but only subtly. Victoria rubbed her forehead, pushing aside a few of her short blonde strands as she blinked down at Nathan. She had stopped crying awhile ago, but there were still traces of desolation swimming in her otherwise besotted pools.

“It’s just…” Victoria hesitated, worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she thought about what she was going to say. “I still feel like shit for posting that stupid video of Kate.” She eventually admitted.

Somehow, Nathan knew she was going to bring that up. Rolling his eyes, though not caustically, Nathan assured her, “Vic, it’s not your fault. You weren’t the one who made her go to the party that night. That was all Marsh.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t help things by posting a video of her kissing guys like that.” She rebutted. “I made her seem like a total slut.” Victoria’s voice was surprisingly modulated, despite the wine in her system. Setting up on his elbows, though keeping them tucked in due to the rather close proximity between them, Nathan pinned Victoria with a firm, unwavering blue gaze.

“Victoria, the shit that happened that night, wasn’t your fault.” Yeah, it was his. “Kate coulda left at any time, but instead she decided to stay and got wasted off her fucking ass.” If it wasn’t for the drug he gave her. “You had no idea that people were gonna start making fun of her for something as fucking stupid as kissing some dudes, nobody did.” Maybe if he hadn’t changed the story so much. “You can’t beat yourself up over this shit, Vic. What happened, happened. And Kate’s still alive.”

And nearly dead because he had been too selfish to admit the truth.

For a moment, Victoria didn’t say anything, eyebrows knitted in a fond expression of pain and reluctance. After breaking their gaze briefly, eyeing the linen sheets of her bed, Victoria gave a resigned sigh.

“I guess you’re right. What happened _did_ happen, and it’s not like I can go back in time and fix it.” She muttered, a tad bit bitterly, flickering her brown eyes up when she felt the slightest brush of Nathan’s hand on her shoulder. He didn’t move it, and Victoria laced her fingers loosely with his own. The grateful, refreshing smile she gave was almost enough to make him break down and confess right then and there.

“Thank you, Nathan.” She said, _genuine,_ unlike him. He didn’t deserve her as a best friend.

Nathan nodded, squeezing her shoulder slightly before releasing his hold. He knew he had to get going, but if he was being honest, he didn’t want to leave. He felt content, the bed underneath him snug and tempting and Victoria’s presence next to him comforting. Shit, Nathan could probably fall asleep now if he really wanted, though a part of him thought better of it. It thought of the consequences that could befall him, _and_ Victoria, maybe even somebody else, if he didn’t leave.

So, with a heavy sigh, Nathan delicately gestured for Victoria to shift over, allowing him space to hop off the bed and to his feet. As he began slipping on his loafers, he could feel Victoria’s gaze bore into the side of his face, but he pretended not to notice. He stood up, straightening his jacket and pushing back his hair, and Nathan urged the corner of his lips to quirk upward as he smiled down at Victoria.

“I’ll check on you later, Vic.” He promised. And he meant it.

Victoria nodded, giving a tiny wave. “Bye, Nate.”

 

~

 

Nathan honestly enjoyed Blackwell the most when it was like this: cool and quiet, the latter being immensely true, the only sounds he could really hear being the hushed voices of other fellow curfew violators, or chirruping crickets. It brought Nathan a reflective sense of ease, even if it only was temporary. Being reminded of why he was sneaking back over to the boys’ dorms in the first place drew a deep, miffed sigh out of him, and he suddenly missed the warm feeling of Victoria’s bed.

Avoiding picking up his feet, knowing a few campus police would be on duty around this time, Nathan trekked back to his dorm room like a cat burglar, the shadows of his movements dancing eerily on the moonlit walls. The wine sloshing around in his empty gut made him a little wobbly, but he managed, and soon enough he was standing outside room 111, keys in hand. Luckily, nobody was dumb enough to even think about going in his room while he was away, but Nathan locked it regardless. Last thing he needed was some asshole putting their grimy hands all over his stuff.

Or, worse case scenario, have his room undergo a full-blown police search.

After prying open the door with a diminutive grunt of effort, Nathan stumbled his way inside, already in the process of stripping his signature red varsity jacket from his shoulders.

He tossed it, the material landing roughly on the bed, followed by his cardigan, leaving his solid black undershirt on. He pulled on a navy blue sweater over it before snatching up his discarded jacket and laying it back around his arms. Kicking off his loafers, Nathan traded his brown denims for a simple pair of washed out gray jeans, finishing it off with some cherry-red Doc Martens. A quick check in the mirror was enough to assure himself he looked fine, though Nathan wasn’t quite sure why he was bothering with his appearance anyway. Wasn’t like he was trying to impress anybody, let alone fucking Mark Jefferson. It’d be a cold day in hell before he cared about what he thought.

Giving a less than attentive brush of his hair with his fingers, Nathan scooped up his keys, both the dorm keys and the keys to his truck, before heading out the door. He shut it forcefully though quietly enough not to alert anybody, and began putting the keys in the lock―

“It’s past curfew.”

Now, if Nathan hadn’t still been under the influence of the wine, he probably would have jumped about six feet in the air at the voice. Instead, he somehow managed to keep his feet rooted to the floor, teeth clamping down on his tongue, as he slowly turned to face none other than Warren Graham himself. His arms were crossed over his chest, hair wild as usual, body swathed in clothes that indicated he was in the throes of slumber.

If it weren’t for the ridiculously nerdy print on his t-shirt, Nathan almost would’ve found his glare intimidating.

_Almost._

Snorting, Nathan twisted at the waist to fully face the other boy, forgoing his previous task of securing his door.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime, nerd?” He mockingly asked in a hushed tone, keeping it a low volume.

“Isn’t it past yours?” Warren easily snapped back.

Nathan scoffed, the rage that normally would’ve followed the statement muted by the alcohol in his system. He didn’t have a chance to respond before Warren pelted him with another question. “Where are you going?”

“Aww, worried about me?”

“You wish.” Warren shifted his stance, now balancing a morsel of his weight against the wall behind him. “Just wanna know what to tell the cops when they come looking for you.”

A small, drunken laugh bubbled out of Nathan before he had the chance to stifle it, and just then Warren suddenly twined up his nose like he caught wind of a funky odor.

“Have you...been drinking?” He asked, carefully, though the look on his face confirmed that he already had a clue. Nathan didn’t lash out at him like he had been expecting, although it would make for more sense for him now after Kate nearly died today. The whole thing put everyone on edge, Warren especially, and alighting on Nathan’s unmindful behavior just pegged him as weird.

 _Really,_ fucking weird.

Nathan smirked, his giddy high thinning around the edges. Reality was starting to seep back in, ticking around in his brain. _Stop wasting time, dumbass._ “Wow, what gave you that fucking idea?” Warren raised his brows, like he couldn’t believe he was even asking that question.

“Seriously? Dude, I’m no drinker, but I know alcohol when I smell it. Not to mention you’re all…calm and stuff.” Warren muttered, gesticulating a hand to punctuate his point.

Nathan absently rubbed at his jaw, side-eyeing the taller boy. “Would you prefer me not being calm and punching your face in?” He asked, words dripping with a sickly sweet sarcasm.

His question made Warren go silent. Sensing that the unwanted conversation was over, Nathan turned to leave, but Warren’s next question froze him in his tracks.

“Why did you drug Kate?”  

Pivoting on his heel with enough momentum to make Warren stumble back a couple steps in surprise, Nathan jabbed a finger at his chest irately, his own thudding with an uncertain rhythm.

The numbing effects the wine brought him dissipated, making him feel more like an animal that had been trapped in a cage. “I didn’t fucking drug her, dipshit. She got wasted; bit off more than she could chew, and now suddenly ‘little miss sunshine’ wants everybody to fucking pity her.” A dry laugh burst from him. “Well guess what? Doesn’t work that way. She shouldn’t have asked to be on video macking with some dudes if she couldn’t handle the heat. Coulda saved us all the fucking trouble.”

Feeling a migraine coming on, Nathan shoved Warren away, reaching up to squeeze the bridge of his nose tightly. His burner phone vibrated in his front pocket, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead he fumbled in his pockets for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips in a pitiful effort to calm his nerves. He left before Warren could recover from his mini rant and batter him with even more questions, the urge to flip him off as he did strong.

If Nathan wasn’t still a little drunk, he probably would’ve noticed Warren covertly crossing the distance from their rooms to his, trying the knob.

He probably would’ve noticed the sound of his door slowly creaking open, denoting it was unlocked.

He probably would’ve noticed Warren invasively slipping inside, now slowly closing the door behind him.

Nathan didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, man, I wonder what Warren's gonna find in Nathan's room...the suspense. Haha, but anyway, as always, thanks for reading.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope you all had a great Thanksgiving. It's been a month since I last updated, but here I am finally with a new chapter. It's starting to really set up the plot after nearly 40k words, and the Grahamscott is gonna start happening too, so be prepared. In the meantime, hope you enjoy this chapter. As usual, any criticism is welcomed.

Half-lidded eyes stared listlessly out at the road’s expanse. Nathan’s fingers loosely gripped the steering wheel, the other hand sliding throughout the confines of his uncharacteristically disheveled locks. The slow motion gradually diminished the evidence of care he put into styling it this morning.

The outwardly calm, and unrushed behavior he was exhibiting was a stark contrast to the speed in which he drove. Knowing he was well over the legal limit, Nathan occasionally darted blue eyes to the rapidly passing scenery in search of a hidden patrol car. Although he knew he probably wouldn’t get off with anything more than a slap on the wrist, the thought of his father finding out about any more of his infractions was not something he desired.

He was already in deep shit after that meeting in the office. Although he didn’t make an effort to show it, Nathan had seen Officer Berry focus in on what Max had said.

That she had seen _him_ in the bathroom yesterday with a gun. A gun, that even though brought Nathan a solid sense of comfort and protection, also felt more and more like a hindrance that he paraded around on a daily basis. It was only natural that he was going to slip up sooner or later, but Nathan had hoped it would’ve been later rather than sooner. At least so he could prepare for the fury his dad would eventually unleash upon him. Even now, he kept lifting up his phone to see if he got a new message from him, wanting him to come home so they could ‘talk’.

That word had developed a whole new meaning to Nathan.

Usually talking with his father meant trying to hurry up and come up with an excuse as to why he did what he did before one of two things happened: one, being lectured about the importance of the Prescott name and reputation while simultaneously having his shit kicked in, or two, being lectured about the importance of the Prescott name and reputation while having random objects hurled at him.

He could almost still feel the sensation of a glass vase exploding against his side, just above his hip, stray pieces embedding themselves in his skin. The recollection subconsciously made Nathan press a hand against the spot, although the pain had long since ebbed away.

Nathan could only imagine what his father’s reaction had been once Berry inevitably told him. Despite being a typical, money-whore businessman, obsessed with making himself look good for the public, Sean Prescott acted the complete opposite of professional behind closed doors. Inside the clandestine walls of the estate, Sean treated virtually everyone like shit. To have a day when he wasn’t on full asshole mode was few and far in between.

As far back as Nathan could remember, he had always been that way. It was only when he started getting older did he truly start seeing the vile side of him. Before she had fucked off to join the Peace Corps, Kristine regularly tried to protect Nathan from Sean’s violent outbursts, though she failed more often than she succeeded. For some reason, his dad hardly ever raised his hand towards Kristine. Maybe it was because of the fact that she wasn’t as screwed up in the head as Nathan was, or because she didn’t disappoint him on a daily basis like he did, but Sean definitely treated her more kindly than he ever did him.

It was safe to say that once Kristine was out of the picture, it was open season on Nathan. Occasionally there were times when he tried to rationalize some reasoning behind his father’s constant abuse towards him. That maybe there was a purpose for how often he smacked him around, and just generally acted like he was a blemish that needed to be wiped off the face of the earth.

The idea that he was letting out his frustration over the loss of his preferred heir to the Prescott legacy did come to Nathan often. Kristine was supposed to take over after Sean, and now that she left, with clearly no intentions on coming back, he had to settle for the family fuck up. It made a bit of sense to Nathan, the more he actually considered it, though it also made his hate for his father grow.

Gnawing fiercely on his lower lip, Nathan realized with a sense of dread that he reached the barn. The wheels underneath the truck gave a couple shudders as it acclimated to the shift of terrain, slowly coming to a stop just before the wooden building. From any normal point of view, the place looked abandoned and old, like it belonged in some horror movie. That notion was especially true now that it was night time, the barn casting an eerie shadow that swallowed up the entirety of Nathan’s truck.

After mentally preparing himself by repeating a calming mantra in his head, a technique that Victoria instructed him how to do, Nathan steadily pushed open the door with his slightly damp palms, stepping out into the night’s warm air. He inhaled it, exhaling and reaching into his pocket for a cigarette in the same motion. It came to rest between his lips, unlighted, as he made his way over to the barn, automatically moving to shift over a slab of metal resting against the wall. Nathan didn’t so much as grunt as he moved it and easily slipped inside, making sure to cover the entrance back up.

He ghosted through the dilapidated building, batches of dried hay crackling underfoot as he headed to the slightly more polished wooden section of the floor. He wasn’t surprised to see that the padlock had been removed. Even though Nathan had the means of opening it, Jefferson usually left it unlocked for him whenever he had him come out to the barn like this. As such, the contraption obediently granted him access inside, to which he closed it behind him in a fashion similar to the metal slab. He ditched his cigarette at the foot of the stairs, knowing that Jefferson would probably have a stroke if he so much as thought about lighting it.

The stained walls of the interior bunker flashed dully as the singular light on the wall glinted on and off, evidently in need of a fresh bulb that Nathan had no intention of providing. Instead he punched in the code to the vault, fingers moving in a way that showed he had done the same thing many times before. At the little beep it gave, he began turning the handle to the door, hating the agonizing crank the mechanism gave.

Inside the dark room, the once warm coat of air he felt wrapped around him instantly dissipated. It wasn’t so much because of the fact that it was cold, but because of the fact that the man he both loathed and admired was in this very room. He could hear him moving about, the snap of a closing binder sending a chill snaking down his spine. Cautiously, Nathan smoothed out the wrinkles of his beloved jacket and ventured further inside.

As he rounded the sharp corner, Nathan’s gaze instantly fell upon Jefferson’s figure. He was stooped over his desk, an assortment of photos splayed over its surface, flanked by bright scarlet binders.

He turned his head at Nathan’s approach, eyes neatly hidden by his glasses, but still revealing enough for Nathan to see the brown speckles of his irises. Twisting his body more in Nathan’s general direction, Jefferson placed the photo he had been looking at on top of a binder, interlocking his fingers together.

After a minute or so of silently staring at Nathan and his stiff posture, Jefferson simply stated, “You’re late.”

The analysis spurred an unsuppressed scoff out of Nathan, who at last found his composure. He said nothing as he strode over to the couch and promptly deposited himself in the center, his arms coming up to rest over the precipice in a lazed position. The urge to let his head fall back into the plush cushions while his eyes slowly drifted shut was surprisingly hard to resist.

Still, he remained attentive, immediately switching his eyes to Jefferson as he waltzed into his peripherals cradling a glass of wine. Just looking at more of the vermilion-colored liquid made Nathan’s stomach churn disgustingly, made even more sharp by the lack of proper nourishment he had deprived himself of earlier today. He almost regretted not accepting his breakfast from Warren when he had the chance.

Jefferson’s lips just barely touched the edge of the glass, though the alcohol visibly vanished down his throat, moving faintly with each swallow. Nathan watched, quietly, his leg starting to bounce as the seconds droned on.

With a contented sigh, Jefferson pulled the glass away from his mouth, entrapping it in a delicate grip. Either he noticed Nathan’s discomfort and just didn’t care, or he didn’t seem to pick up on it, which was unlikely. Jefferson noticed everything.

Sure enough, he tilted his head, his lips, which were now faintly stained in wine, curling into a feline smirk. “Something the matter, Nathan?”

“No.” Nathan instantly forced out. The bouncing increased. “I just want to know why the fuck you wanted me out here this late in the first place.”

Jefferson’s smirk dropped, but only slightly. He muttered a small, “Right.” Bending, he placed his half full glass on the table in front of Nathan, prior to walking over towards the desk again. He retrieved one of the red binders and came back over to stand in front of Nathan once more. The name on the front of it made him swallow thickly, guilt resurfacing.

_Kate._

Jefferson skimmed his hand over the photos of Kate in a sickeningly affectionate way, the expression he wore unreadable. “What happened to Kate was extremely unfortunate.” He started, having the decency to sound sympathetic. “The sheer amount of ostracization she faced because of the video had clearly reached its peak, though I didn’t suspect that she would try and take her own life.”

Nathan didn’t respond.

“Kate was... _is,_ very special.” Jefferson went on, undaunted by the lack of response. “She’s naive, so inexperienced in the way the world truly works. Having the opportunity to photograph her was something that I greatly enjoyed. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would. In a heartbeat.”

The more Nathan listened to Jefferson prattle on about Kate, the more and more he wished he had just stayed at Blackwell and locked himself in his room.

Kate didn’t deserve any of the crap that happened to her that night. She most likely had just been trying to settle into the social circle of Blackwell, instead of spending majority of her time advocating for a lost cause. Kate had finally mustered up the gall to crawl out of her good little virgin shell, and Nathan just had to swoop in and fuck it all up for her.

It had all been so painfully easy too. Nobody had noticed him slipping a roofie in Kate’s drink, nearly all of the party’s attendants too wasted beyond coherence to tell the difference between up and down. Watching her slowly deteriorate from the effects of the drug was painful, like witnessing a train wreck that he had caused. He was the only one who knew why Kate Marsh of all people was suddenly grinding up against the person nearest to her, or locking lips with whoever was willing to reciprocate. No one did. No one except Nathan.

He waited and watched as Kate eventually lost the ability to stand on her own feet before making his move. Nathan snaked an arm around her slender shoulder blades, guiding her towards the exit where Jefferson had instructed him to take her. Along the way, he had been relentlessly teasing the idea of taking her the hospital like he kept telling her over and over. Just to have her in some place where he knew she would be safe and out of the hands of Jefferson.

And he could’ve. Goddammit, he could’ve and should’ve, but he didn’t.

He had been too scared.

So instead of doing what he truly wanted, what he knew was the right thing to do, Nathan placed Kate’s unconscious body in the back seat of the car, covering her almost naked form with the nearby blanket in a pathetic attempt at trying to preserve her dignity.

He drove with a certain heaviness to him, the feeling only magnified every time he gazed up in the mirror and saw Kate’s form curled fetally in the blankets.

Why did it have to be her? It was a question Nathan asked himself a lot these days, and as usual, he always came to one answer: because it was what Jefferson wanted. Who gave a shit about what the local fuck up thought? All he was good for was drugging innocent girls and bringing them to some photography teacher with a twisted obsession for taking photos of said drugged girls.

Nathan never once questioned what they were for. He had a good idea as to what, but he absolutely despised to entertain the thought. That was something that would and has made him physically ill. Then again, Jefferson made him feel that way regardless.

He was abruptly startled when the red binder slapped down onto the table unceremoniously.

Scowling, Nathan twined his gaze up at the older man, though it was more quizzical than spiteful. Jefferson was in the midst of taking another swig of his wine, wiping his mouth with a careful flick of his thumb when he finished.

“Sorry.” He apologized, even though he sounded far from remorseful. “Looking at these photos, it’s clear to see that Kate possessed those qualities I always sought in a model. She could’ve been my masterpiece― _my muse,_ had things not turned out the way they did.”

Nathan didn’t want to hear this bullshit. The words he was using, it was the exact same way he had described Rachel. Rachel, who had wanted more than anything to become a model, going to any means necessary to do so. Nathan could just see her now, living it up in Los Angeles, flaunting in front of the cameras like she always loved to do. The thought tugged an odd, dreamy smile at the corner of Nathan’s lips. However, the moment he belatedly registered the action, he quickly set his expression neutral, but it was too late.

“What are you smiling at, Nathan?”

Nathan huffed, annoyed by the question, although inside, he was cursing himself for getting so absorbed in his musing. “Nothing.” He deadpanned.

“Nothing?” Jefferson frowned, clearly unconvinced. “You were smiling at nothing?”

“That’s what I said.” He wished Jefferson would just drop the topic. He wasn’t about to say that he was thinking about Rachel. She was, undoubtedly, a sore topic for Jefferson. He had enjoyed taking pictures of her more than anything, which showed even before they had their cameras in hand. Their photo shoots would be primed and prepped beforehand with utmost care and attention to detail, Jefferson barking at Nathan if he so much as had a light a few inches out of place.

The day Rachel left, Nathan became keenly aware of the shift in Jefferson’s behavior. He became more impatient, tolerating Nathan’s mistakes less and treating the models more aggressively. There would be times when Nathan would stumble upon Jefferson in the middle of a session, and the model would be in an awkward, strained position, like he had just carelessly tossed them in front of the lights and started taking pictures.

With Kate, Jefferson gingerly adjusted her form with careful, meticulous movements, like he was handling a delicate glass that could shatter into pieces with an erroneous movement. Not only that, but not once did he raise his voice towards Nathan, keeping it soft yet just loud enough for him to hear. It was a nice change from the more harsh side Nathan had been seeing lately, although he had a feeling that it wouldn’t happen again anytime soon.

To his relief, Jefferson didn’t press him any further about the issue. He gestured towards Kate’s binder, Nathan tracking the motion absently. “Kate was definitely one of my favorites by far. Pure, sweet, and practically radiating with that wide-eyed innocence I enjoy capturing as it evolves into corruption. However,” Jefferson paused, his eyes narrowing faintly. “Her innocence wasn’t...genuine. Her religion hammered into her that she couldn’t be anything but a poster child for celibacy, and anything else was considered taboo. And, of course, she complied to those regulations.”

Nathan gave a small, comprehending nod. He couldn’t speak, the queasy sensation in his gut increasing.

“It’s not to say that her personality was entirely artificial, yet it’s obvious that it vastly stems from what she was taught. The type of innocence I seek to capture is candid, unhindered by tedious things like religion. And that’s where Miss Caulfield is relevant.”

Nathan’s jaw tightened at that name. After licking his dry, cracked lips, he spoke hesitantly, “What does Max have to do with Kate?”

It seemed Jefferson had been waiting for the opportunity to talk about Max. He got that same glint he had in his eye back in Well’s office, and a smile easily lifted his lips.

“Max is the perfect subject for my theme.” He moved away, pacing around the room with precise steps like he did when he gave long lectures in class. “She’s not crafted to be the way she is, unlike Miss Marsh. Watching Kate act was...cute, for a while, but frankly, it just became repetitive bullshit.” Nathan snorted, although it was fairly dry.

“With Max, she doesn’t have to act. Everything she does, everything she says, it’s just natural. There’s nothing more I despise than fake models pretending to be something they’re not.” Jefferson’s steps slowed, until he was completely still, angling his head so he was staring at Nathan.

“I’m sure you’ve already noticed, but much of these models that we’ve been photographing lately haven’t lived up to my expectations.”

“Yeah..” Nathan winced at the hoarse note of his voice. He cleared his throat, sitting up a bit and trying again, “Yeah, you don’t seem...into it.”

Jefferson turned away, sighing with what sounded like poorly contained frustration. “I value every one of these sessions, Nathan. Every model is special and it would be foolish not to understand that. You of all people should know.”

The severe tone he used made a tendril of defensive anger rise up in Nathan. His hands abandoned its blissful repose, fiercely gripping his kneecaps as his body threatened to tremble. Try as he might, having Jefferson doubting him even the slightest bit was something that tilted his entire world on its axis. “I know that, alright? It just seems like you don’t care about this shit as much as you used to. Ever since Rachel―”

Nathan cut himself off the second Jefferson snapped his head back towards him. He blanched, pushing his body into the cushions of the couch as the man strode his way with hasty steps.

“Do _not,_ mention her name.” He demanded, crooking a finger in front of Nathan’s face, who flinched away from the action. He didn’t know why, it wasn’t like Jefferson would hit him. He wasn’t like his dad.

Seeing the fearful, perturbed look Nathan had written across his features, Jefferson immediately pulled his hand away, letting it fall to his side. In a few beats of careful thought, his other hand then came up to gently push back the soft curls of Nathan’s hair, as if to convey his repentance. The gesture was quick and fleeting, not lingering long enough for Nathan to register the action until he felt a chill venture down his spine.

“I’m sorry, Nathan.” Jefferson said, a level of honesty in his voice that he hardly ever heard him use, especially when speaking to him. It made all tenseness melt away from his body, unraveling him from the protective posture that he had assumed so many times before. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I’m not angry with you.”

Nathan nodded silently, watching as Jefferson sighed and ran a hand across his mouth. He stepped away, walking over to the closet. Nathan followed after him, his own hands stuffed in his pockets. He wanted so badly to pull out a smoke right then and there, craving the soothing nicotine, but he pushed down the urge.

The door to the closet was swung open, Jefferson searching for a particular name out of the dozens that Nathan vaguely recalled. He hadn’t made it his mission to remember the names of the girls who had been photographed, even if he probably remembered their faces. That didn’t mean he was going to open them up and look through the pictures. Those were memories he’d much rather remain under lock and key.

“Nathan.”

Obediently, Nathan perked. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t call you here to talk about Kate. Or Rachel.” Jefferson explained, voice cool and calculated as he was rifling through the binders.

“Then what for?”

For a moment, Nathan thought he hadn’t been heard, and he straightened up to repeat himself until he noticed a very, _very_ familiar name on a red binder come under the touch of Jefferson’s lithe fingers. His heart rate spiked dangerously, fingernails molding deep indents the shape of crescent moons in the skin of his palms.

Victoria’s unfilled binder came to rest on Jefferson’s desk, staring back up at Nathan tauntingly as he struggled to keep his labored breaths under wraps. He felt like he had been punched square in the chest.

But it seemed Jefferson wasn’t done. He plucked another binder from its place on the shelf, another name that Nathan knew clearly. It joined Victoria’s binder, also empty, although Nathan feared that neither would be like that for very long.

“Max Caulfield and Victoria Chase. So different, yet so strikingly similar.” Jefferson circled around Nathan, who was frozen to the spot as he took in the gravity of his words. “They’re both perfect subjects for my theme, their innocence made to be captured by the lens of my camera. Although, I’d personally prefer to have Miss Caulfield be my selection, that’s not my choice, Nathan. It’s yours.”

Nathan darted frantic blue eyes up at Jefferson’s coy smile, his composure thoroughly eviscerated.

“It’s simple really. If you fail to deliver Miss Caulfield to me by the eve of your party, then Victoria will be going with me to San Francisco in light of the Everyday Heroes Contest. I’ll just have to get Max some other time. But if you do manage to succeed, I’ll leave Miss Chase alone, and Max will become my next masterpiece.”

Immediately, Nathan shook his head, reaching up to grip his hair as he became overwrought with indecision. Apparently, this was the wrong thing to do, for Jefferson ferociously seized his jaw, fingers squeezing painfully at the supple skin until Nathan forced himself to meet that cold, unwavering gaze. Jefferson looked at him from the bottom of his lids, then lowered his eyes, foreheads nearly touching, neither of the two ever breaking the connection.

“Max. Or. Victoria.” He enunciated every word deliberately slow as though he were talking to an incompetent child. Nathan had no other choice but to nod, the lower half of his face aching with protest the longer Jefferson held him there. Jefferson released him a second later, and Nathan instantly took to nursing the soreness in his jaw, eyes still wide.

“Good.” Jefferson closed both Victoria and Max’s vacant binders, though he made no move to put them back onto the shelf. Nathan noticed, but he didn’t have the coordination to do anything other than stare and gawk in horrified silence.

It was either Max or...Victoria.

Fuck, Nathan couldn’t make that choice. He cared about Victoria more than anything, definitely more than he cared about himself. He couldn’t just willingly sit back and let her be shipped off to San Francisco so Jefferson could have his way with her, not when he could do something about it. But what did Max do to deserve that either? Incident in the bathroom aside, Nathan didn’t wish that kind of shit on anybody, let alone Max. Hell, not even Chloe.

He tried looking between the lines, to find some alternative that he could use in order to keep Victoria out of harm’s way, and prevent Max from setting foot in the dark room. But as Nathan thought about it, the more he realized just how completely and utterly hopeless that notion was.

There was no alternative. Defying Jefferson simply wasn’t an option. Any and all ideas he had of escaping this fucked up ultimatum were all met by the looming threat of losing everything he was already struggling to keep together. His life was falling apart at the seams, and Jefferson had been the one to see that, knowing just what strings to pull so that things turned in his favor. Nathan hated that. He hated knowing just how easy it was for him to be coerced, and he hated Jefferson for being able to coerce him in the first place.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

“Nathan.” Nathan screwed his eyes shut at the directive, though he still painstakingly peeled his eyelids apart to focus on Jefferson.

The man flashed him a tiny grin, although it held little amicability. It was something dark, something that scared Nathan more than he cared to admit. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you lied to me earlier today. Consider it an act of...kindness, if you will.” Jefferson came closer once more, this time stopping just at Nathan’s side. His breath was a warm ghost of air against his earlobe as he leaned into it, a shiver gripping Nathan’s body.

_“Next time I won’t be so generous.”_

 

~

 

Driving back to Blackwell, Nathan’s body felt heavier than ever before. His conscious was practically drowned in guilt, leaving him unable to will away the pained expression on his face that no doubt gave away to what he was feeling.

It reminded him of the night he had taken Kate to the dark room, except it was ten times worse. He felt physically ill, like he might puke at any second, though Nathan suppressed it vehemently. Last thing he needed to add onto his list of problems was his truck reeking of fucking vomit.

He resigned to rubbing tiredly at his eyes, despite the fact that he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. The nerves were too much. It was going to keep him awake all night, and most likely plague him the following day, only getting worse the closer and closer the deadline approached. The eve of the Vortex Club party. That was this Thursday. How the fuck was he supposed to get buddy-buddy with Max in less than 48 hours?

That is...if he was actually going to deliver her to Jefferson.

Which, dammit, Nathan didn’t want to do. He didn’t want to do anything, but even in Jefferson’s book, doing nothing was dangerous. And in this case, it was especially dangerous to Victoria, and subsequently, Max.

That was when another thought struck Nathan.

How did he know that Jefferson was going to keep his promise about Victoria? If he really did give Max to him, would he actually stay true to his word and leave Victoria alone? What if he changed his mind? Jefferson was known for being indecisive in the past, although it was usually because he had his eyes set on even greater ulterior motive, one that he would seldom let Nathan in on. The chances of him doing that now seemed high, especially at this current moment in time.

Sighing, Nathan squeezed the steering wheel, though careful not to apply too much pressure. His knuckles still hurt from punching that map earlier. Although the bruises were already disappearing from his sight, Nathan could still feel the pain as if it happened only a few hours ago, and not this morning. It was strange, it didn’t bother him much until now. It had basically become an afterthought, pushed aside for more of the worrying matters that consumed the occupancy of his mind.

Nathan wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not to pull up into Blackwell’s parking lot. He was hours past curfew, various gleams from high-powered flashlights indicating that the campus was under security surveillance. It didn’t bother him. He had snuck out plenty of times before and came back even later than this, and not once did he get caught. Nathan latently opened and exited his truck, closing the door as quietly as he could without alerting anybody to his untimely arrival.

Everything after that was just routine. Before he knew it, Nathan was already at the bend that led to the dormitories, and he was about to make a run to the doors when he heard a gravelly voice sound a few places ahead of him. He quickly dove behind the wall, just as Principal Wells craned his neck in the exact direction he had been heading seconds ago.

“Who’s there?”

Nathan almost could’ve squawked with laughter. Principal Wells didn’t sound at all as intimidating as he did in the office. Instead, he spoke sloppily, a slowness to his words that Nathan heard in his own voice all too many times before. Dude was hammered.

A tense moment of silence passed, Principal Wells’ question still hanging in the air blankly, before a deep sigh, and the sound of a body slumping against a solid surface echoed into the night.

“What the hell am I doing…? One girl almost dead and suddenly I’m out here talking to myself.”

Nathan felt a series of emotions swell within him listening the older man ramble to himself. Sympathy, not among them. He rolled his eyes, knowing he likely wasn’t going to move anytime soon, and backtracked towards the way he emerged. The doors were probably locked anyway. He didn’t feel like swiping the keys from Samuel, and he couldn’t sneak in through his bedroom window because he always kept it locked.

“Dammit.” Nathan scowled at the ground, kicking at a dead leaf. What else could he do? He could always crash in his room back at the Prescott Estate, but he wasn’t ready to face his father’s wrath just yet, so that wasn’t an option. Maybe he could just drive around town? He had done that before, but that was only with Rachel, and without her company he would bore himself to death. Crap, there really weren’t that many options.

Unless...

Humming to himself lowly, Nathan whipped out his phone and unlocked it, scrolling through his contacts until he saw the name he was looking for, and hesitantly opened up their message box. He typed out two entire messages before hurriedly deleting them, seeking out the call option instead.

He brought the phone to his ear and waited.

 

~

 

_“Nathan, what the fuck?”_

Those were Victoria’s first words upon glancing out her window and seeing her best friend smiling up at her apologetically. Her room was a considerable height off the ground, which meant Nathan had to expertly balance himself on the ledge of the lower room’s window in order for her to reach out towards him. She managed to grip him by his forearms for support, and Nathan did the rest, shirt riding up his abdomen while he planted his feet upon the wall in greedy leverage. The heels of his boots scuffed against the rough surface as he struggled to get his body over the window sill, grunting with the obvious effort. In the midst of it all, Victoria held fast to him, not letting go until he collapsed onto her bed, pawing his way towards the edge to stand breathlessly before her.

Nathan took in her appearance. Victoria’s usually dolled-up face was rubbed raw, devoid of the makeup she wore everyday in favor of a more natural look.  Coupled with that, she wasn’t wearing any of her overly expensive clothing. Just a plain black t-shirt that clung to her waist loosely and a pair of white fleece pants that stopped just above her ankles.

Acknowledging the dark circles under her eyes, it didn’t take long for Nathan to put two and two together.

“Shit. Did I wake you up?”

Victoria pursed her nude lips together in response, brows lowered. “No, of course not. I was just lying in bed waiting for your phone call.”

The sarcasm couldn’t have been anymore blatant. Nathan smirked at the sound, though he couldn’t maintain it for very long. His expression quickly softened with gratitude, blue eyes flickering down at tired brown.

“Thanks, Vic.”  

Victoria looked taken aback for a second, completely caught off guard by the sincerity of the words. Her anger at the inconvenience of being woken up in the middle of the night fell away, and she allowed herself to sigh, a smile replacing her frown.

“Of course, Nathan.” She slid past him, shutting her window closed once more, before lowering herself to sit on the edge of her bed. After a moment of consideration, Nathan sat next to her.

He purposely didn’t meet Victoria’s gaze, aware that she was staring at him in anticipation of an answer. As to why he was out this late. Almost 2 am, to be exact. Problem was, Nathan couldn’t say why, for obvious reasons. It was bad enough that he had had to rouse her from her sleep just to deal with his bullshit. There was no way he could let her know the truth, not after what Jefferson had threatened to do.

Nathan adorned what he hoped was his most convincing mask of indifference and shrugged. “Had some last minute shopping to do, if you know what I mean. Gotta make sure that party is kick-ass, right?”

Any trace of suspicion Victoria might have had vanished, almost like it had never been there to begin with. She blinked, then flapped her hand at him dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, of course. It’s just...aren’t you tired, Nate?”

 _Couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to._ “No.”

“Are you sure?” She pressed. “You’ve had a pretty long day.”

“Positive.”

“Nathan..” Victoria tilted her head at him, eyes squinted in a narrow, her arms folded against her chest. Nathan saw that look and posture countless times in the past. It was when she was trying to force answers out of him, and no matter how many times Nathan tried to rebuff it with a stiff upper lip, he ultimately fell victim to it.

It shouldn’t have been any different now, though this time, Nathan didn’t even bother to put up a fight. He figured it would be easier to go along with her instead of insisting otherwise, as he didn’t have it in him to sit and argue with her.

Exhaling through his mouth, Nathan vapidly dropped his head, which found its way into Victoria’s lap. Her fingers instantly took to lovingly combing through his tousled curls, a habit she had acquired after all the times Nathan flocked to her for comfort. He had never expressed any qualms about it, so she just automatically did it whenever the chance presented itself.

Nathan didn’t mind a bit. The combination of her steady, quiet breathing and tranquil movements were enough to make him close his eyes and just bask in the silence. Deep down, though, he knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this. It felt wrong. She was under the impression that the only thing that was truly causing him any adversity was his dad.

She didn’t know that Jefferson was another key reason behind his misery. She didn’t know at all that the man she idolized was a creep with an obsession for drugging and kidnapping young girls. A creep who Nathan enabled to do what he did by using his family’s benefits. And everyday, Nathan would die a little inside at the fact that he couldn’t tell Victoria any of it. He couldn’t tell anybody. He was forced to keep it to himself, giving it free reign to wreck irreversible havoc on his conscience.

“Nathan?”

Nathan exhaled lightly through his nostrils, his mind put on standstill. He must’ve been quiet longer than he thought. “Hm?”

Victoria petted his temple in a sideways motion, leaning over his askew form to get a better look at him. “Can you stay here? Just for tonight?” She practically begged, tone pleading in a way that made Nathan hesitate in responding. How the hell could he say no when she asked like that?

Twisting his head, Nathan found her face, which was heavily obscured by the darkness of her room. There was a hopeful gleam to her expression that was emphasized by her little pout.

Staying the night did have an appeal to it. Nathan was no stranger to sleeping in her room, despite majority of those times being purely incidental. He usually left before the sun cracked even a glimmer of light over the horizon, Victoria still sound asleep on her bed.

Accepting her request shouldn’t have been any biggie, yet as Nathan could feel the growing urge to shimmey closer into the warmth of her hands, the more he wanted to push away from her. It took nearly all he had in him, but Nathan somehow managed to untangle himself from Victoria’s fingers, hunching beside her.

“I’m not sure, Vic. What if somebody comes in and sees us?”

Nathan knew damn well that he didn’t give a shit whether somebody walked in on them or not, but he needed a reason to deny her without giving the wrong impression and hurting her feelings. Considering that Kate had nearly taken a permanent dirt nap today, it was safe to say that Victoria wouldn’t take rejection too well.

Sure enough, she sagged her body, looking way too dejected for Nathan’s tastes. “It’s not like anybody would even have the balls to say anything about it.” She insisted. Nathan wordlessly fixated his gaze on his boots. As the silence between them trickled by, Victoria’s hand suddenly slithered into his, intertwining their fingers. Nathan should’ve yanked his away, but it stayed put, even tightening around hers.

“Please, Nate? Just for tonight, I swear. Then you can leave first thing in the morning.” Nathan had no doubt that Victoria meant everything she said. She kept to her word, unlike him, and she hardly ever implored him to do anything, especially not like this. If anything, she was more of an authoritarian, but to a certain degree that Nathan didn’t find to be aggravating. Had it been anybody else, he probably would’ve told them to fuck off eons ago.

Victoria wasn’t just anybody. She was his best friend, his metaphorical rock. Any and all good decisions he made in his life had been because of her, rather than of his own volition. Without her, Nathan was positive that he would’ve already been dead in a ditch somewhere.

Maybe he owed her to do this. He had wanted to check up on her earlier, but between Jefferson and his own fucked up train of thought, the desire never came into fruition. Of course, now it did, but waking her from a solid sleep to let him sneak into her room wasn’t exactly what Nathan had in mind.

Sensing he was at a loss, Nathan sighed, though good-naturedly. “If I stay the night, would that make you happy?”

Victoria smiled. “Yes, it would.”

 

~

 

Nathan’s eyes blinked in a blind darkness up at what he knew was Victoria’s ceiling. His back was pressed into the soft cushions of her couch, one arm crossed behind his head while the other was in a lazy repose against his chest, fingers tapping a noiseless tune. His legs were sprawled out before him, socked feet only exposed at Victoria’s request that he not sleep with shoes on. And though initially peeved, Nathan acquiesced.

The pillow she had given him had since fallen somewhere to the carpet in his constant shifting, but Nathan didn’t feel the urgency to retrieve it. He was more focused on Victoria. Or more specifically, her breathing.

The first couple minutes after laying down, she had been utterly still and quiet, not completely asleep, probably checking to make sure that Nathan didn’t try to slip out of her room the moment she relaxed. A little while after that, Nathan heard the quiet, contained little snorts she released in random intervals, the bed creaking softly as she readjusted herself in search of an ideal resting position. Then sometime after that, she acquired a rhythmic snore, body rising and falling with each breath, occasionally mumbling incoherent nothings that Nathan tried and failed to interpret.

A momentary guilt struck him for what had to be the thousandth time that day as he pushed himself off the couch, grasping at the spot where he placed his boots. He didn’t bother to put them back on, rising to his feet while observing Victoria for any type of reaction. He actually stood there, probably longer than he should have, breath lingering behind his teeth, just watching her blank face in anticipation for those brown eyes to open.

They didn’t, and Nathan skulked across her carpet to the door.

He managed to shut it behind him without making much more noise than a muted click, shuffling out into the barren hallways of the girl’s dorms as a feeling of deja vu washed over him. It was different than earlier, no longer could he hear the muffled voices of the inhabitants, or the steady pitter patter of somebody taking a late night shower. Everything was simply...dead. Not in the literal sense, though it might as well have been.

Nathan navigated the halls using the only light from his phone, retracing his steps with a heightened sense of confidentiality. His footsteps sounded especially loud in his ears, and he stop dead in his tracks every time he heard even the slightest noise come from behind one of the doors. It felt like an eternity had passed before he finally reached the exit.

 

~

 

Not once did Nathan ever think he would be happy to see the crappy wooden door of his room. He traipsed towards it in renewed enthusiasm, tucking his boots underneath his armpit while he dug inside his pocket for his keys, his other hand gripping the handle.

Nathan nearly jumped back in alarm when he felt it begin to rotate underneath his hold. A little force onto it, and sure enough, his door happily swung open, revealing the silhouettes of his furniture and dimly lit photograph display in the far right corner.

He had locked it when he left, hadn’t he?

Frowning, Nathan stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, leaving him standing in the center of his room. His eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of visibility, and he blinked down at his floor while his brain tried to fill in the blanks.

He had been stopped by that fucking nerd while he was heading out, that much he knew for sure. Nathan couldn’t remember exactly what he had told him, but he did vividly recall shutting down whatever he had tried to start up. After that...he just left.

And didn’t lock his door.

“Fuck.” Nathan cursed, now fumbling for his lamp. The shit was still busted― _goddamn it, Chloe_ ―so when he clicked it on, it birthed an awkwardly shaped glow of light that barely reached everything in the room. Luckily, it was enough, and Nathan took to scanning his things, searching for something, _anything_ out of place. His bed was the same as he left it, clothes still strewn across the blankets from earlier, his brown loafers still in a dogpile at the foot of his nightstand.

He doubted that if somebody had been in his room that they would be interested in his clothes, so Nathan immediately went to his computer and logged in, only to find that all his tabs from before were still open, undisturbed.

It was comforting, but that feeling came and went, as Nathan’s eyes instantly alighted on his couch. Everything that could probably have him convicted was stowed back there, except for his burner phone, which was currently pressed into the clammy skin of his thigh. A cold, unsettling pit formulated in him, and he shakily gripped the piece of furniture, sliding it across the carpet in one clumsy motion.

Nathan was pretty sure that his heart stopped beating for a second, after seeing nothing but the bare backside of the couch. His worse fears were confirmed. Somebody had been in his room, found his shit, and was now doing god knows what with that information. The realization caused Nathan to step back in utter horror, hands glued to his face, his nails raking down his cheeks hard enough to draw tidbits of blood. His breaths came in a ragged pants, his whole chest feeling like it going to collapse on itself.

_Nonononono…_

What the fuck was he supposed to do now? He had no clue who could’ve been in his room while he was gone, and there was no telling whether they had already―

 _...Wait._ Nathan paused, a fleeting thought grazing past his overworked brain. _No fucking way._ It was a slim chance, but Nathan had a very good idea as to who was the culprit behind his stuff going missing. And just like that, his despair was replaced with rage.

He was going to pay that nerd a fucking visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping I can start shelling out these chapters a bit faster, but we'll have to see. Anyway, as always, thanks for reading.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I could go back in time and kick my own ass, I would. It has been what, 8 fuckin' months since I last updated?? Good lord. If any of my old readers are still with me, then I wanna say thank you so much. It's been a pretty bumpy 8 months for me, and I've gone through a lot of changes. Some voluntarily, others not. But through it all, I've been working on this story on and off. Months of writing, rewriting, and no writing, all to finally produce the latest chapter for you guys. I put a lot into this one; 52 pages and counting. It's the longest chapter by far. So, as usual, I hope you guys enjoy, as I finally, FINALLY, get the Grahamscott ball rolling.

Warren had done a lot of questionable things in his life, but sneaking into Nathan Prescott’s dorm room in the dead of night had to be at the top of the proverbial list. His eyes never once left the spot Nathan had been standing only seconds ago, paranoid that he was suddenly going to reemerge around the corner and scream at him for even thinking about doing what he intended to do. Thankfully, his fear never came into fruition and Warren quickly eased himself inside the darkened room, shutting it behind him with a hushed click.

He hadn’t necessarily planned to go nosying through Nathan’s things, but since his impromptu interrogation for answers fell flat, he looked for the next best thing. It was potentially even more detrimental to his well being, especially if he wound up getting caught, but his remaining options were few.

Besides, nobody had the knowledge of his visions, not even Max, and here he was going behind her back to conduct his own investigation while at the same time trying to figure out what the hell Mark Jefferson had to do with all this.

Max had said that he wasn’t who he seemed to be, but what exactly did that mean? Was Mr. Jefferson some kind of twisted psychopath, using the guise of a beloved teacher to hide his true identity? Or was he just an accomplice to Nathan and his schemes? It would make sense, now that Warren knew for sure that Nathan had done _something_ to Kate after he drugged her. He didn’t know what, and if he was being honest, he was a little scared to find out. But he had to. For Kate. And to some degree, himself.

Warren shook his head, ridding himself of any distracting thoughts and focusing on the matter at hand. For one, he couldn’t see a damn thing, and he regretted not thinking of that beforehand. What he was able to make out, however, was the erie display in the corner. It was a series of photographs, the theme dark and definitely twisted, like something ripped straight out of a horror movie. Warren’s discomfort increased tenfold just looking at it, so he hurriedly peeled his eyes away.

He spent a couple minutes indiscriminately grasping at the air, feeling around for something that resembled a light source in the pitch black room. Jeez, what was this guy, a vampire?

Warren yelped. Well, he found the nightstand.

Reaching up from nursing his aching knee cap, Warren’s fingers grazed the telltale shape of a lamp. He triumphantly switched it on, squinting a bit to acclimate to the sudden change of visibility. It wasn’t crazy bright, which probably had something to do with the glaring crack stretching down the lamp shade.

It had to have been by some clumsy mishap. He doubted that Nathan purposely would’ve broke his own shit, but Warren didn’t know much about him to begin with.

Not that he wanted to know more, anyway. He just needed to find enough evidence that could prove he drugged Kate. Warren still wasn’t too keen on taking it to the police and with the fire he was playing with right now, he had to be extra careful with who he trusted. Luckily, he actually had to gather the evidence first. He could work out the kinks later.

Humming thoughtfully, Warren briskly swept his eyes across Nathan’s surprisingly clean room, doing a double take at the large projection screen on the wall. It took up nearly the whole space behind it, and he looked up to see the sleek projector planted on the ceiling. Of course. Leave it to the richest asshole in all of Arcadia Bay to have the sickest setup Warren had ever seen in his life. This was the type of stuff he could only dream about having.

But the thing that really made Warren stop and gape in utter amazement, eyes wide and all, was the shelf stuffed with movies. Literally every part of it was filled to capacity with films that Warren could list off the top of his head, provide a thorough summary of, cite all the actors, and explain all the trivia.

Seeing all this, Warren was blatantly reminded of his own movie setup and collection, which was only comprised of his secondhand laptop he got for his 13th birthday, and the few movies he purchased legitimately. Most of his other movies were pirated online, and while it was easier than trying to keep up with physical copies, it definitely didn’t have the same novelty.

Only seconds after glancing away from the shelves, Warren’s eyes fell upon a poster tacked on the wall. The woman posed in the photo had a distressingly slender figure, which was bound tightly in solid black tape. Warren had seen plenty of sultry films to know that it was BDSM. The fact that it was proudly hanging up in Nathan’s room didn’t particularly surprise him. He seemed like the type to have a fetish like that.

Knowing full and well he was getting distracted, Warren gave a short huff and steadied his hands firmly in front of him. _“Focus, Warren. You’re not gonna get another chance at this.”_

And it was just the truth. After all was said and done, there was no way Warren would be able to pull this off again. Not only because of the encroaching storm that was supposed to rip Arcadia Bay to shreds, but also because of the sheer unlikelihood that he would get another opportunity like it. Nathan wouldn’t just let him get off the hook that easy.

The realization was enough to spur Warren into beginning his search. He wasn’t sure where to look first, waltzing aimlessly about for a moment, so he went to the obvious: the computer. If there was anything that movies taught him, it was that there was always something juicy worth finding on the villain's computer. Stooped over, the mouse fitting snugly in his palm, he gently urged the machine out of sleep mode.

Only to be promptly greeted with a screen asking for a password.

 _Did you really think it would’ve been that easy, Warren?_ He mentally sneered at himself, snorting humorlessly and shaking his head. He sighed heavily and pulled away from the computer, arms crossing as he took to ruminating.

Looking for a password would help him out here, but what kind of password would a guy like Nathan Prescott have? Knowing squat about him, Warren would be here all night guessing what it was. So, the computer was out. It was a bummer, there was probably a goldmine of information just waiting to be uncovered, but without that stupid password, it was gonna stay there.

Warren wanted to search for it, but ultimately, time wasn’t on his side. Nathan could show up any second, and he didn’t want to rely on his powers to warn him if and when that happened. He still didn’t know how to control them, or exactly what triggered them in the first place, though he made the basic assumption that they were somehow linked to his emotions.

Maybe Max’s powers worked around that premise too? If so, what did time traveling have to do with it?

Warren scratched fruitlessly at his temple, suddenly feeling very self-conscious standing in Nathan’s room. The feeling clung to him as he went over to the shelf near the door and started hunting through disorderly piles, finding little more than overdue homework and untouched textbooks.

When he became aware of himself picking through wrinkled clothes, grimacing as he very nearly made contact with a pair of boxers, the doubt started to creep in. What if he was wrong about Nathan? What if, by some stroke of horrid luck, that he had been telling the truth about Kate? Here he was, looking through the guy’s fucking underwear for christsake, feeding off his own hunch and Kate's patchy recollection of what happened during the party. If that wasn't the definition of risky, then Warren didn't know what was.

His doubt was suddenly pushed aside as he came across a random piece of paper, just barely covered by the armada of designer shirts and jeans. The clothes in this drawer alone probably cost more than Warren's entire scholarship.

Fishing it out, he walked closer to the light and held it up, reading as the message became clearer.

_HEY ASSHOLE,_

_We need to talk, or I’m going to tell everybody what you did. And you’re going to pay motherfucker._

_Woah._ Warren thought, astonished. Turning the paper over in his hands, he sought out more information, feeling more cheated than confused when he was greeted with an empty backside.

There was no name or anything left behind; only the rough, scratchy handwriting that was obviously done in a hurry, the ink bleeding profusely in some places and only leaving a faint mark in others.

However, it was still a clear, blunt threat, one that had to have been targeted at Nathan, but by who? And _why?_ Warren liked to imagine that Nathan had long since seen the letter and dealt with the situation, but...what if he hadn’t? Maybe that was the reason he had left in such a hurry earlier. As far fetched as that seemed, it was still the first official piece of valuable info Warren had found, and he folded it seamlessly before tucking it into his pocket.

He was about to shut the drawer back closed when he noticed something else glistening, resting in the same spot the note once occupied. Warren fished that out too, and by the way the paper crinkled solidly in his hand, he knew it was a photo. As he trailed closer to the light once more, it didn’t take Warren long to make out the image, and he almost dropped it in horror.

It was a girl, with electrifying blue hair, huddled against the floor of Nathan's room in a fetal position and surrounded by a disarray of clutter. Her eyes, the same hue as her locks, were glazed over, nearly concealing the color entirely. A blank, yet distinctly fearful look served as the expression frozen on her face, which was slack with unconsciousness.

Warren's hand shook as he took in the image. He was stuck somewhere between the uncertain expanse of feeling appalled and furious. He knew Nathan was screwed in the head, but this took it to a whole new level. This girl was drugged out of her mind, there was no mistaking that.

But strangely enough, it wasn’t the entire picture itself that unsettled Warren the most. It was her hair, a color that stuck out like a sore thumb to him in his memory. He remembered clearly, the blue haired girl who Nathan had almost shot and killed in his dream―wait, _no,_ who Nathan had almost killed _yesterday._

She had to have been the one who wrote the note. In his dream, she was threatening Nathan with the idea of telling everybody what he did, unless he paid her hush money. Warren understood her motives a little bit, but he can't help but wonder if she had thought the entire thing through. There were gaping holes in her plan, ones big enough that almost caused her to get shot. Warren hoped that she wouldn't try it again, because the odds of Max being there to save her again were slim to none.

He decided to leave the picture where he found it; there was no way he would be able to forget that sight anytime soon. It was practically already engraved behind his eyelids. Drawers shut, Warren took a couple steps to his left and got to his stomach as daintily as he could, peering under the bed with a pointless squint. Even with the light, he couldn’t see much of anything, so he begrudgingly extended a venturous arm in the darkened space.

One of the things he found was a not so discreetly hidden porn magazine, a rather vulgar one at that. Censorship was a concept lost on the publisher.

Warren went red in the face and slid it out of his view faster than the speed of light.

Other discoveries, thankfully not as lewd, included an empty beer bottle, a sock, and a self-management book. For anger, specifically, which Warren snorted at. The irony was painful.

He was filled with a tendril of hope when he spotted a peculiar looking box a bit deeper under the bed, body stretching in a mighty lurch for it. His effort paid off, the box happily sliding under his volition.

Warren didn’t know what he expected to find, but it probably wasn’t any of this.

Uncovered were various monochromatic photos, most macabre, but others a little more tasteful; a guide on how to operate a 9mm _―holy shit―_ a concerning amount of empty prescription bottles―Warren didn’t recognize a single name―and a small box of single edge razor blades.

He eyed the razor blades a little longer than he should’ve, and, after a contemplative moment, stashed them to where he couldn’t see them anymore.

Warren put the box back to resemble its previous assemble as best he could, standing up and dusting invisible muck off his hands. His feet began unconsciously steering him around the room while his sight perused the vicinity. Stroking his chin, he murmured a string of, “Where to look, where to look, where to look..”

He felt it before he saw it. Warren halted right where he stood, experimentally wiggling his toes at the ground. It was rough, rougher than the texture of the carpet, and before he knew it, he was getting down to investigate.

Sure enough, there were dark scratch marks, easily able to camouflage with the rest of the floor had Warren not be scrutinizing it so intensely. They began right from where he was, and he tracked the curving line towards...the couch. It looked like somebody had moved it in a hurry, unintentionally causing one of the legs to etch into the floor. Warren wasn’t a psychopath, but he was sure that if he was trying to hide some freaky shit, he would stash it somewhere inconspicuous.

A couch surely fit that criteria.

Holding firmly onto that thought, Warren came closer to the couch and gave it a small shove, startled when it moved effortlessly. Weird, he thought it’d be heavier.

He was able to quickly push it out the way and peer in closely, not seeing anything more than the dingy wall and horribly dusty floor. Dismay fell upon him at once. He had been so sure about it..

_Wait. What is…_

Suddenly, his breath came in quicker, suspense urging his heart to beat faster, because there was something there, there was _something_ on the back of the couch―

It was a plastic bag, Warren realized as he carefully peeled it away, handling it like it was as delicate as a piece of chaff. It rippled crisply in his hands, which were rapidly becoming damp with sweat.

This _had_ to be what he needed. The golden ticket that could help him take down Nathan, hell, maybe even the entire Prescott empire, all wrapped up in one neat little Christmas bow. He felt at least ten times lighter as he pocketed the entire thing, moving the couch back where it was, the placement making seem like he had never been there in the first place.

Of course Nathan would realize it was missing, Warren knew that. When he put two and two together, he was bound to come raging after him, Warren knew that. But every and all bit of common sense he retained had been chucked out the window, being overtaken by blinding determination. He was shaking, but it wasn't because of fear. This was exhilarating adrenaline, _excitement_ , that nearly made him feel delirious.

His brain was set on ‘go’, and there was no off switch.

****

~

****

Following the events of his risky expedition, Warren flocked to his desk, pushing aside the slovenly clutter before taking out the bag to scour through its contents. Most, if not all of what he found was condensed on various folded up sheets of notebook paper―except for a flash drive he set off to the side. He found a whole list of dates on one sheet he unfolded, all written down in the same distinctively flimsy handwriting that Warren had seen printed offensely on his room slate countless times before.

It was Nathan’s handwriting.

The beginning of the list was where he seemed to have the most grasp on keeping his lines steady and readable. From about the seventh date on, however, was where it started to gradually diminish in quality. It became more spidery and rushed, like he had wrote some of these down half asleep.

It made it just barely decipherable, even to Warren, and he prided himself on being able to read even the crappiest of scription. Trying to comprehend Nathan's chicken scratch handwriting was like trying to crack a code of sorts.

Despite this, Warren marched headstrong through the dates, taking sporadic sips from the can of Redbull perched precariously on the desk’s edge. Room temperature had made it warm, but Warren didn't mind. It gave him just the kick he needed to press onward, reading the dates out loud with only the light from his laptop as visibility.

“August 9th… August 27th...September 3rd...September 5th…” None of those dates sounded familiar or significant. As far as Warren could tell, there wasn't any pattern to them. They literally could've meant anything.

Groaning lowly, he took another swig and continued. “September 19th...September 22nd...September 28th...October 1st….October―”

The last date on the list made Warren still abruptly, a name clawing its way to the top of his forethought and out his lips in a ghostly murmur. “Kate.”

He touched his fingers to the page where _October 4th_ was scrawled, as if he was still on the rain slathered roof, bracing a hand against Kate's freezing back.

By now, October 4th was a horrible day for him to remember. It was the day of the now infamous Vortex Club party, where the video of Kate making one of the worst mistakes of her life had been spawned. Somebody had been evil enough to slap the thing online for any curious pair of eyes to see, even giving it its own url: Katesvid.com.

The fact that they used her name in such a manner was appalling to Warren. It just wasn't enough for them to have her humiliate herself at the party, they had to attach the whole ordeal to her name, like she was some kind of fucking spectacle to gawk at.

Did somebody take the video down yet? Warren didn’t know. He wouldn’t know unless he checked the page, and he made a promise to himself to never go to that site again.

It felt entirely too wrong typing in the link, and he waited with bated breath as he watched the loading bar climb sluggishly. The page started to formulate, the video in particular taking the most time. When it finally finished, the compressing weight that was pushing down on Warren’s diaphragm was lifted, and he was at last able to suck in a shaky breath.

_This video has been removed by the user. Sorry about that._

It was gone. Gone, gone, gone. As it should’ve been eons ago, but Warren wasn’t going to complain. Happiness enough was knowing that the demeaning thing was taken off it’s hellish throne, especially now that it was evidenced how much it was destroying Kate’s life. Of course, there was always the high probability that it was still on some other site, but he could only hope that this would trigger a domino effect, and that all the other clones would be deleted too.

With that no longer weighing him down, Warren busied himself with the other paper he had found. The one that contained a lengthy list of drugs. Based off the quantity that was beside each drug name, Warren deduced it to be somewhat of an advanced shopping list, for lack of better word.

Some of the names were crossed out already, but others were not, meaning that Nathan was still in the process of collecting said drugs for whatever sick scheme he had going on. He skimmed the uncrossed ones.

_2 bottles of liquid Ketamine, 4 ounces of GHB, 8 lbs of weed, 1 bottle of LSD.._

Damn, Nathan wasn’t messing around.

Warren of course already knew what LSD and weed were, considering people in the dorms used it religiously, but GHB and Liquid Ketamine weren’t ringing any bells. He thought he had a vague idea, but it was fuzzy and uncertain.

So, figuring he probably wouldn’t get an answer just by sitting there, Warren consulted the internet. His fingers darted across the keys, typing his first question into the Google search bar. About a million different results popped up, so Warren clicked one at random.

“GHB...GHB…” he faintly murmured the name under his breath, waiting as the page loaded.

When it did, Warren was gifted with paragraphs on top of paragraphs of the drug known as Gamma-Hydroxybutyric Acid.

There was so much info that he could practically cherry-pick what he did and didn’t want to read, but by the time he had gotten to the third paragraph, Warren refused to skip over even the tiniest of detail.

_GHB is known to be able to put the victim into a state in which they’re unable to resist sexual advances from others, and can be distributed as an odorless liquid, or white powder form. Because of its potentially dangerous side-effects, it’s classified as a predatory drug._

He continued to read until he got to the very end, which listed phone numbers for drug addiction and depression lines, before scrolling back up to the top. The newly learned information had his brain working overtime.

No wonder GHB sounded so familiar. It was a date rape drug; the kind of drug that nine times out of ten, was administered to Kate at the party. The symptoms here, the symptoms Kate described to him, they matched perfectly. Nathan roofied Kate, there was no looking past that. The fact that he wrote down the date, had a incapacitating drug on his fucked up shopping list, all pointed to the reality that Nathan was guilty as shit.

And if that was the case, did that mean that the other dates were for other drugged girls too?

Fueled with the feeling that he was finally making progress, Warren eagerly pulled back out the other list, selecting the very first date on the list to look up.

“Arcadia Bay..Oregon, July 16th, 2013…” Warren typed just as briskly as before, hitting the enter key with gusto.

Apparently, on July 16th, the most that had happened in Arcadia Bay was a car accident, in which a teen had been killed while texting and driving. It wasn’t anywhere near here, and the person hadn’t gone to Blackwell or anything, so Warren moved on.

July 29th. Warren vividly remembered that day. It had been blazing hot. He’d been holed up in his room at his parents house, devouring popsicle after popsicle and having his face buried in the fridge half the time. So as expected, the articles that surfaced about that particular date only mentioned the heat wave that struck the town. Others talked about the minor increase in gas prices. Ugh.

He didn’t have all that much with luck that dates after that either. He only found news that covered mundane topics hardly worth talking about, or he simply didn’t find any information at all, and his hope was waning by the minute.

Warren had almost gone through the list entirely when he stumbled across something interesting about September 22nd. Unlike all of the other seemingly meaningless time stamps, when he unloaded this date into the search bar, the results were consistent and thorough, sharing the same topic.

_Missing Arcadia Bay Teen’s Body found in Local Lake._

From the morbid title alone, Warren could feel the color drain from his face.

Clicking on the first result, he was whisked away to the site of a popular news column, to the link he requested. The headline read ‘Missing Teen’s Body Found’ and directly under that, was a picture of a young, brightly smiling girl.

She couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than Warren, with long flowing tresses of chestnut hair and a glimmer of mischief flashing in her dark, almost pure ebony eyes. In the photo, she was posing with a german shepherd, holding up two fingers in a peace gesture while the fingers of her other hand were curled lovingly in the dog’s fur. She looked happy and carefree, a dark contrast to the whole reason why she was even being mentioned in the news in the first place.

_Kirsten Thompson was last seen at a beach party on June 27th, 2013. Witnesses say that Thompson had gotten into a blue sedan, claiming to have been going to an after party, but she hadn't been heard from since. Now, after months of investigating with no lead of any sort, the case that has had many Arcadia Bay citizens clinging to their prayers has been brought to a tragic close._

It went on to describe the girl’s personality and her relationship with other Arcadia Bay citizens, however, when it began detailing how her body was literally fished out a lake, Warren tabbed out.

His discomfort veered sharply to anger.

There’s no way that Nathan writing this down was a coincidence. There was simply too much coverage. Somehow, someway, that guy was involved with that poor girl’s death. Warren wouldn’t put it past him. He would find out what Nathan’s role was, and when he did, shit was going to hit the fan.

There was no way he could possibly keep quiet about it.

His determination encouraged him into researching the date for a whole ‘nother hour more. He saw the Prescott’s name sprinkled in articles here and there, but that was usually preceded by the name ‘Sean’, Nathan’s father.

Warren saw a bit of Nathan in Sean. They had the same nose and lips, and even the same scowling frown. But what they seemed to share the most in common was that piercing, querulous stare. While Nathan’s eyes were a filmy, bruise-blue, Sean’s were the deepest set of jasper green eyes Warren had ever seen. They looked easily capable of cutting somebody open at the slightest provocation, and Warren could understand why some people find Sean Prescott to be so unapproachable.

He actually dabbled into the Prescott family line a bit, just to see if they had any dirt that he possibly dig up as well, but another half hour quickly passed with him finding nothing worth making note of. Soon, Warren’s eyelids steadily threatened to slide close, each time becoming harder to resist than the last.

He drunk absently from his nearly depleted can of Redbull, somewhat hopeful that it would combat the drowsy spell that seemed to come out of nowhere. It felt like somebody was pushing their fingers down on his eyelids, and no matter how hard he tried, Warren melted under the touch. His Redbull wasn't doing anything for him at this point, besides serving as a temporary remedy to his parched throat. In no time at all, he found the bottom of the can. It went soaring into the trash.

His sight went to the digital clock.

_1:06 A.M._

Okay, maybe he could just close his eyes for a second. He wouldn't fall asleep. He would just snatch a quick wink and get back to his research.

 _Just a second,_ he told himself, already folding his arms in a makeshift pillow and resting his head against them.

_Just a…_

_..Sec._

_…._

****

_~_

****

Warren was slingshotted back to awakeness, almost literally.

His body jolted with an uncanny force, but instead of sending himself tumbling forward as expected, he was slammed right back by something almost twice as strong. Pain quickly flamed at his wrists, and Warren clamped down on his tongue to avoid crying out.

Glancing below to investigate, he was greeted by the sight of his arms pinned down by tape, and lots of it. He could feel it sticking crudely to his skin, rubbing and pulling anytime he moved his hands. His legs were free though, but he couldn't do much of anything in his current position. After attempting to free himself and getting exactly nowhere, Warren tried redirecting the attention to his pain by examining the room, the room that was most definitely _not_ his own.

Everything was bathed in a harsh, artificial red light, like a real life horror movie filter. At first, Warren couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from, and it made him feel like he had gone colorblind, until he spotted the lights poised at either side of him. The bulbs, glowing an eerie red.

Though even with the visual impediment, he could see just how clean the place was. Abysmally clean, actually; there didn’t seem to be a thing out of place.

Even the expensive looking camera equipment was meticulously dotted around the place, with a tripod steadied a few feet away from him. To his diagonal right was a chrome-made cart, topped with photos, bottles of some liquid he couldn’t name, and..fuck, was that a needle? Warren silently prayed it wasn’t.

It didn’t help that his thoughts were feeling like thunderstorms swarming in his mind. There was also this constant haze of fuzz bleeding into the outreaches of his eyes, worryingly reminiscent of the aftereffects of his visions.

But this wasn’t a vision..was it? No, it couldn’t be. His visions were never this lucid, and they only lasted for a few seconds. Unless of course, he was dreaming again. Maybe it was just a normal dream this time. A screwed up dream, for sure. Granted, it wasn’t as alarming as seeing a monster tornado literally moving across the fucking _ocean,_ but it was up there. And, if this was a dream, shouldn’t he just be able to think this all away? Maybe make it less terrifying?

Well, he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so Warren did just that, furrowing his brows in concentration, picturing something more pleasant. Nothing happened initially, the sound of his ragged breathing and the taste of humid, stale air still fresh on his person, but then, he felt something.

It tugged innocuously at first, cautiously urging him towards a landscape far from the bitter chill of the dark room, before becoming more tangible. More welcoming. More urgent. Warren saw light and it was just within fingers reach. He drifted towards it bit by bit..

Only to be shoved right back, the connection to whatever he had imagined abruptly severed, leaving him to plummet helplessly back into his nightmare world.  

He heard this sort of keening noise, loud and wailing, and Warren was pretty sure it was coming from him. There was no way to know for certain, as he was now mostly focused on writhing violently in his seat, calling out for everything and everyone he could think of.

_“Hold that pose.”_

Warren’s anguished struggling ceased like hitting a brick wall, a minute click was all the warning he got before white light assaulted his vision.

A choked screech of surprise tumbled out Warren’s lips, and he squeezed his eyes closed as what little sight he had previously became distorted. Heat furled up his skull in a twisted dance and Warren lowered his head as he became acutely nauseated.

 _What the hell?_ Warren managed to think through his panic. Somebody was taking pictures of him, evidently, but who? He thought he saw the figure of a man, a tall man at that, crouching before him with a camera for a split second, but the coloration of the pulsing lights made everything needlessly hard to discern. When he tried to peel open his eyes to find out, all Warren saw was scintillating polka-dots, mixed in with off-colored smears of red. It did not make for a pretty image.

Warren ended up squeezing his eyes shut again, only able to squirm and pant through his distress. There was one thought, however, that gave him a bit of comfort, and he believed it for all it was worth: _It’s just a dream._

He almost aborted that reasoning when another flash came, dousing the red with white once more.

 _Who’s there?! Stop that!_ Warren tried to scream, but for some reason, his lips didn’t move, and he could feel the words he wanted to say just ensconced at the back of his throat.

The tossing and turning of his head was stopped by the feeling of rubber against his face. Gloved fingers were biting into his cheeks bruisingly.

 _“Stop_ moving. You’re going to ruin the shot.”

Against his better judgement, Warren blindly kicked out, feeling superfluously pleased when his foot connected with something. It turned out to be a human leg, which retracted immediately, clumsy steps sounding, followed by a deafening clatter that echoed throughout the room.

There was this ringing silence that stretched on after, entirely too thick with tension to be bearable.

“You little shit!” Through his sightlessness, Warren didn’t anticipate the swift hit that came seconds later. It felt like a slap, but had the force and intention of a punch, and next thing he knew, blood was flowing out his nostrils freely, dripping unchecked on his clothes.

It made the dizzying sensation in his head ever more prominent, and Warren hung it listlessly over his chest, ignoring the wetness of his nose in favor of steadying his currently skewed sense of awareness.

His captor, by the sounds of it, was now busying himself with rectifying the fallen object, muttering irate obscenities under his breath. God, what Warren wouldn’t give to see that asshat’s face.

“You just enjoy making my life difficult,” they―no he, it was definitely a guy―spoke, his voice sounding a little further away now. “Forgive me for laying my hands on you, but one can only be pushed so far before they snap.”

When his head allowed it, Warren squinted through his daze and made out a shape skulking about the room, only able to maintain his sight for a little while before pain made him reel back into darkness. 

He had to rely on his hearing, and what he picked up was the soft clinking of bottles and the clicks of heels against ground.

“I had been hoping that you would’ve been more cooperative, especially since I’ve made it perfectly clear that nobody is coming to rescue you. Yet you continue to fight against me, acting as a further hindrance to my plans.”

Warren felt like he was missing chunks of context for half the crap this guy was saying, like he had been given a puzzle with most of the pieces missing, yet he still reacted with the same fear as if he knew anyway. His insides ran cold, and his heart raced nonstop, sounding much louder in the unsettling silence of the dark room.

“You should actually consider yourself honored. Being a subject in my vast portfolio, ” the man said. “I don't give this opportunity to just anyone, you know.”

_Honored? He should be honored to be part of some fucked up photoshoot?_

Warren couldn't see, but he did lift his head in what he assumed was the man's general direction, putting all his effort into sibilating his words. “Screw you, asshole.”

He got a sharp chuckle in response, but the amusement in it was overshadowed by barely concealed anger.

“Such passion. Such… _hatred._ Lashing out, even when it's clear who has the upper hand here. It's like watching a wounded animal fight back against their captor, indulging in a fruitless battle. Tell me, _Warren,_ are you scared right now?”

Warren stilled.

He knew his name? What...who was this guy? Why did he know his name when Warren didn't know shit about him? Fuck, he wanted to see so bad, but he couldn't.

Suddenly feeling like his vocal chords had been strangled into useless strings, Warren said nothing in reply. He couldn't and wouldn't dignify him with an answer. But Warren didn't know if it even mattered anyway though, for he was met with more demeaning laughter.

“It's okay to be scared you know,” the man's voice unexpectedly took on a more conciliating tone, lowering into a haunting whisper.  “You're just a hapless teen living in a world that's constantly changing. There's never any way of knowing what's going to happen to you. One minute you and your friends could be causing public disturbances in an idiotic pursuit of fun, and in another you could be..well, here. A piece for my chessboard. I'd say that's a pretty good fucking reason to be scared.”

Even though this was all a mere construction from some morbid section of his mind, the words tugged at Warren's soul. They marinated deep, both in him and the atmosphere, and his captor used the time it brought him to return to whatever it was he was doing before.

If Warren could get a glimpse at whoever it was, it would certainly help him fill in the gaps about what the hell was going on. It physically ached not to be able to even meet the eyes of his captor, to pinpoint the inconclusive reason why his voice sounded foreign to his ears, yet distantly familiar at the same time.

So through the blurriness and pain, Warren pushed himself to gaze outwards once more, to get a handle on the ambiguity, squeezing it until it molded into something more certain. Clearer.

Then the footsteps stopped.

“However, after that little stunt you pulled, I can see you need a another dose. Subjects are difficult to photograph while they're still conscious, after all.”

Dread pooled in Warren's gut like dead weight. Another dose? He was drugged?

“I would say that this isn’t going to hurt, but…then I would be lying.”

Warren had half a mind to start struggling again, no matter how bad he felt like puking. Unfortunately, those same gloved fingers snatched up his jaw in a vice grip quicker than he could react, forcibly holding him still. Warren tried battling against the man's volition, but he was physically weakened, disoriented, and high off fear, making for a horrid cocktail of elements working against his favor.

He was, on all sides, screwed.

When the pinprick came in his neck, it was excruciating, but Warren couldn’t even muster up the urge to cry out. His bodily functions were already shutting down one by one, like flipping off the switches at a carnival.

 _“A lesson learned perhaps,”_ the voice echoed in his ears, becoming more garbled with each passing second. _“Don’t get caught up in things that don’t concern you. Or_ **_fuck_ ** _with me.”_

****

_…_

****

~

****

When Warren opened up his eyes again, it felt like coming back from the dead. He gasped, heart rate spiking, and eyes blown wide. His hands flew everywhere until they slapped down on the side of his neck, over the spot that had been breached by the unforgiving point of a syringe.

The pain that should’ve been there though, wasn’t. There was no more red light. No skeevy guy taking pictures of him. No bloody nose.

Nothing.

Just him, still donning his now sweaty Doctor Who pajamas, sitting in his rolling chair, in the dead of night. Branches outside his window tapped and scratched at the glass, crickets chirped obliviously, and the feeling of being alone hit him at once.

The recognition of being back in the real world prompted him to place a hand over his still faintly racing heart, just long enough for him to return to breathing normally. That was when he blinked at the still open screen of his laptop, the bright light more painful than usual. Right as he went to turn down the brightness, Warren’s sight snagged on the page’s contents.   

Paragraphs about missing girls and detailed descriptions of various narcotics nearly confused Warren until his disjointed recollection finally coalesced into something understandable, and he almost fell over in shock.

He fell asleep.

And just like that, his panic from before reared its ugly head, and his eyes flew to the clock on the taskbar.

_2:24 A.M._

Warren breathed a relieved sigh.

So, he wasn’t asleep for _that_ long. Comforting to know, for sure. Warren had almost thought he slept well into the night.

It at least gave him some time to put himself back together and continue his research, especially considering that Nathan evidently hadn’t come back yet. He didn't want to go from one nightmare straight to another. The first thing Warren ultimately decided to do right off the bat was wash his face. It was almost embarrassing to feel the dried up residue of spit on his cheek and crust encased in his eyes.

Warren's body creaked and popped as he rose from his uncomfortable position, daintily stretching out the soreness that remained. He then cautiously opened his door, venturing into the still darkness of the halls. He couldn't resist the loitering gaze he shot towards Nathan's door, almost intimidated by it, and he quickly scrambled the rest of the way to the bathroom. The blissfully _empty_ bathroom, that is.

The lights that were normally on during the daytime and early morning hours were replaced by the faulty iridescent blue lights, which only worked every other day. It was a little easier to look at, in Warren's opinion, but with the constant flickering of neglected bulbs and incessant buzzing, that opinion was highly interchangeable.

Warren went to the middle sink, adjusted the faucet to the coldest possible setting, and cupped a handful of water, dousing his face entirely. He shuddered but kept determinedly scrubbing away any traces of sleep, only stopping once his eyes felt clean and his mouth no longer tacky with drool.

Faucet off and face dried with scratchy paper towels, Warren’s mouth twitched at the corners. All the craze of his dream was dying off, and just left him filled with more questions than fear.

As he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, Warren tilted his head to the side. Huh. He actually didn’t look that bad for once.

..Even if his hair was sticking up in all directions and slick with sweat, and his lips were cracked, and his eye bags had eye bags.

Okay, so he looked like shit. But there were way more important things to worry about than bed hair, for god’s sake. Besides, he was never one to fret over his appearance all that much to begin with.

He left the bathroom shortly after his self-assessment. Warren was reemerging inside his dorm room, mentally reviewing the information he gathered so far when something decidedly unpleasant changed in the air around him, stopping him in his tracks. It was colder, sinister even, thoroughly ruining what remained of Warren’s ease. At first, nothing arose to claim responsibility for it, until something did.

Warren didn’t see it so much as he _felt_ it; a pair of hands violently crashing into his chest, sending him staggering backwards until his head smacked coarsely against his door and a startled cry escaped from his mouth. Before he could even begin to process it all, a lunging arm was pressed flush against his windpipe, while something equally as ruthless in nature was guided into his temple, solid and cool to the touch.

“You have exactly 10 seconds to explain what the fuck you were doing in my room and what you saw. _Now.”_

It was discordant in tone, and the vague trace of wine lingered on the breath. Warren recognized it right away. After all, nobody else he knew addressed him in the same abrasive, degrading manner 24/7. His first instinct was to jerk away from the gun, or at least attempt to smack it somewhere across the room, but he wasn't in the right state of mind to do anything that required acute motor functions, his throbbing head making damn sure of that. All he could focus on were the wrathful pools of blue glowering at him with the same intensity of a full blown forest fire.

Nathan’s face was ten times more horrifying in the dark, the harsh creases of his face heavily emphasized and casting dramatic shadows where light was absent. If there was a magazine called _Angry Teenagers Monthly_ , Nathan would've been the poster child.

Warren knew he wouldn't be very happy upon his return, but he could see now just how horribly he underestimated that possibility. And the cherry on top of his shitty cake? He had a gun.

Guns and volatile emotions never mixed well.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Warren laid his palms spread eagle on the wooden surface of his door, squeaking when Nathan urged his arm even further into his gullet.

“Fucking idiot,” he chastised, voice briefly lilting with an almost unnatural nonchalance. That is, if Warren didn't know better. “I'd respect you more if you told the truth.”

There wasn't an inkling of doubt in Warren that if he said something wrong or even breathed too hard, he would get the opportunity to experience what it was like to have his brains on the outside of his head.

“I know you took something from me, so there’s no point in hiding it.”

So, Warren didn’t try to hide it. Instead, he let his shoulders sag a little, trying to give off the impression of indifference and composure. Despite his effort, when he responded, his voice wavered, “Okay..you got me. I _did_ go in your room, but―”

Another undignified sound escaped Warren as he was abruptly wrenched from the door, spidery fingers squeezing bruisingly into his shoulder, only to be spun around and driven head first against wood. A headache was swiftly coming on, but his attention quickly switched to the growing discomfort in his left arm, now folded against his back at an angle it wasn’t made to go.

Nathan ignored his pained grunts, his breath scalding against his earlobe, _“What do you know?”_

Unprepared for the question and also in the midst of trying to nurse his pain, Warren could only slowly shake his head as if he didn’t comprehend. In response, Nathan put more strain on his arm, eliciting a fresh cry out of Warren.

 _“Answer me_ , or you'll sure as shit regret it.”

He was running out of options and _fast._ There was nothing within reach that he could possibly use as a weapon, though Nathan likely would’ve already shot him dead where he stood. The only option he had that seemed least likely of earning him a bullet to the skull or a broken arm was confessing, and who knows how Nathan would take that.

Sensing no other way around the imposing obstacle, Warren breathed a defeated sigh, closing his eyes in useless preparation.

“Alright, alright..I can explain. But can you just, let me go? Please?” Despite the sharp twist in his neck from doing so, Warren spared a tentative peek over his shoulder at his assaulter. Nathan looked like he’d much rather eat his own gun than agree to that, the resentment heavy on his expression. But even so, he slowly began pulling the gun away, begrudgingly so, like the act took more physical effort than he let on.

However, instead of lowering it, he kept it trained on Warren with eagle-like poise, his finger draped across the trigger. He gestured to the chair with his gun in a silent command, and when Warren visibly hesitated, he barked, “Get a move on!”

Not really keen on making Nathan anymore cross than he already was, Warren submissively shuffled over and lowered himself back into his rolling chair at Nathan’s ‘request’. He awkwardly crossed his legs at the ankles, cradling his abused arm.

After confirming that he wasn’t going anywhere, Nathan stalked over to the door, briefly creaking it open to check outside in a half-assed glance, before locking it with an audible _click._ He then back over and promptly dumped himself on top of the bed, pinning a few sheets underneath him. He leaned forward, hands dangling just above his crotch, gun still tightly gripped in one hand, but luckily, no longer aimed at Warren. Even so, Warren wasn’t sure if he felt any safer than he did a couple seconds ago.

“Start talkin’, Graham.” Nathan exhaled, almost sounding bored with the situation. He began making himself comfortable where he sat.

Warren, on the other hand, was far from comfortable. He squirmed in his chair, burning from the stare of those harsh blue eyes that made him feel like he was under a microscope. Gaze casted downwards, he began the hunt for his words.

“Well..”

****

~

****

It felt like ages had passed before Warren finally finished explaining himself, purposely leaving out anything that alluded to his powers and the things that Max had told him.

When agonizing silence was all Warren received as an immediate response, he began twiddling with his thumbs, trying to gauge Nathan’s reaction. His pulse raced, and blood roared in his ears, suffocating fear making his mind conjure the absolute worse.  

_He’s mad. He’s gonna yell. He’s gonna shoot me in the face. I am going to be murdered in my own dorm room by a psycho._

Except, none of that happened.

Insatiable curiosity eventually had him glance upwards at Nathan, who had, for some reason, remained quiet all this time.

He had a single fist pressed against his mouth, his sight pinned to the ground, while a careful frown took his eyebrows hostage, as if his brain was currently working overtime to process all his thoughts. Fearing he’d get caught staring, Warren hastily looked elsewhere, taking up a sudden interest in his kneecaps.

Nathan then outright snarled, shooting to his feet with such speed that even Barry Allen would be jealous. He didn’t know if it was because he had hit his head too hard on the door, or if it was a just momentary lapse in his judgement, but for some reason, Warren had the grand idea to speak up then.

“Look, I don’t know what your role is in all of this, but I’m―”

The punch came so quick that Warren didn’t even realize it happened until he felt a blistering pain pool in his cheek, his eyes averted to some aimless destination.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Warren directed his attention to Nathan again, who was now looming over him, the offending hand still balled tightly at his side, while the other took up the role of lifting the gun once more. Warren said nothing in reply, only quietly rubbing his sore cheek. Thankfully, the pain was already taking its leave, becoming more mute in a matter of seconds, but he knew he would be bruised by morning. He was not looking forward to explaining that one to Stella.

He kept his focus on the barrel of the gun, which was directed precisely at the area between his eyes, a dull heat surfacing on the flesh where it aimed. They stayed like that for a while, Warren frozen still and Nathan toying with his gun’s trigger like an inquisitive child. It was like the wind outside itself had quieted down, waiting to see what would happen next.

“You've got some serious balls, kid.” Nathan broke the silence through gritted teeth, towering over Warren, who instinctively pressed himself further into his chair. Like it would actually help protect him from a raging lunatic with a gun. “Most people are smart enough to know that touching my shit is a huge no no. But you? Just dived right the fuck in.”

If Warren hadn’t been inches away from pissing his pants, he probably would have stopped to consider the backhanded compliment thrown his way, which was major, coming from Nathan. Nathan Prescott didn't compliment people; he beat them down with insults, and sometimes his fists, as Warren had come to find out.

It was then Nathan’s advance abruptly paused, his eyes landing on the small object near Warren’s mousepad. The flash drive.

He had a baleful look then, right before he snatched it up, glancing it over for a second then holding it up accusingly underneath Warren's nose. “Did you look on this?”

“No,” Warren answered quickly, his back damn near aching with how far he was leaning into the chair. “I already told you I didn’t.”

Nathan’s lips pressed together, thin and caustic as it could ever be. He didn’t say anything more, just put the flashdrive in his pocket, then looking over and seeing the crinkles of paper on the desk, and taking those back too. After he had everything that Warren took, he turned back to face him fully.

“I’ll figure out what to do with you tomorrow. Until then, keep your mouth shut. Got it?” Nathan spat, pushing aside any relief Warren may have felt in that moment. He gave a jerky nod, the only coherent function his body could perform. Apparently satisfied with his response, Nathan whirled on his heel and stormed out, though closing the door a little lighter than Warren had expected.

It wasn’t until the sound of Nathan’s door closing echoed throughout the hall did Warren release the tight breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

It also wasn’t until Nathan left that he realized he still had the note in his pocket.

****

_~_

  


“You need my _what?”_

Warren emitted a groan, almost low enough to be confused with a whine. He repeated, “I really need your makeup.”

The bewildered, and frankly judgemental look Dana gave made Warren wish he could phase right through the floor, just to escape the tortuously awkward silence. From what he could tell, Dana had just woken up. Her normally neat and precariously smoothed down ponytail sat in a messy sprawl against the nape of her neck, while any and all makeup she had was vacant from her face.

Warren already didn’t want to press any further, but he couldn’t bail now.

“Does needing my makeup have anything to do with that black eye?” Dana asked intuitively.

“You could say that..” Warren hesitated, twisting his head slightly to reveal the bruise on the side of his face. Almost immediately, Dana's focus switched to the ugly marking, hissing lightly.

 _“Jeez._ What happened?” Was her subsequent question.

Luckily, Warren had prepared himself with an excuse beforehand. Adoring his most sheepish expression, he said, “I fell getting out of bed this morning.”

Dana nodded absently, accepting his response, and reached out to pull Warren by the crook of his arm and into her room. He went gracelessly, catching himself on the doorframe to avoid tripping over his own feet.

“W-What are you doing?” He sputtered.

“What else? I'm gonna cover up those bruises for you.” Dana answered casually.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Somebody could see us.” Warren panicked, even though he was moving in time with Dana’s steps.

“So what? It's not like we’re dating or anything. Come on, take a seat.” She gestured to her bed, and Warren’s traitorous body passively followed the motion, shuffling forward and flopping down on to the colorfully plush mattress. He casted a timid glance around the room as Dana retrieved her makeup, noting the various Blackwell paraphernalia speckled generously across the walls. At least someone around here had school spirit.

“You really don’t have to do this.” His soft murmur came, practically engulfed by the cacophony of Dana’s clunky searching. Warren actually hoped that she hadn’t heard him, but before he could confirm his wishful thinking, she flipped around on her heels, a sort of wide eyed disbelief to her expression that made him hastily wonder if he had said something wrong.

“Are you kidding?” She questioned in disbelief. “It’s the least I can do after you and Max went up on that roof with Kate. You guys totally saved her. Like, superheroes or something.”

There was a strong conviction in Dana’s voice, firm, yet kind in deliverance. Warren knew that she meant well by it, but it only reminded him of gray, roiling clouds, freezing rain hitting him all over, suturing his clothes to his skin, and the pound of each heartbeat going off like a grenade in his chest. He had never felt so both overwhelmed and terrified in his life, and if it wasn’t for Max’s solid presence at his side, helping to usher in the words Kate needed to ground her to sensibility, she probably would’ve been dead.

He couldn’t resist making his feelings known. “Please, Max deserves most of the credit.” She said. “She did most of the talking, both on the roof and in Principal Wells’ office. I was just trying to keep myself together.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Dana easily shot down his modesty. She pushed the drawer closed with a slam of her hip, pinching a plush pad with one hand, and a bottle of concealer in the other. “You still had enough guts to go up there in the first place. You did more than anybody else did or probably even thought about doing, so stop being so hard on yourself.”

Warren’s shoulders rose and fell with indifference; a self-conscious shrug. “I’ve always kinda been that way.” He admitted, “I never really felt..comfortable, you know? Putting myself on some imaginary pedestal like that. It always seemed so fucking conceited to me.”

Dana said nothing, at least not right away, popping off the top to the concealer and applying a small portion onto a deft finger.

“It’s not being conceited, Warren.” She replied while dotting the formula conservatively across his skin. Warren wrinkled his nose slightly at the initial paint like smell, which faded almost as fast as it arrived. “What you and Max did for Kate was amazing. I mean, you guys _saved_ her life.”

Once again, Warren shrugged his shoulders, unable to accept such humble praise. Honestly, it did make him feel like some kind of superhero, but at the same time, it almost felt like he had been obligated to save Kate. Knowing what he did, paired with the unexplained occurrence of his powers, pretty much insured that he would be there to help, whether he liked it or not. The way he saw it, he was just doing what he was supposed to, but in Dana's and possibly everyone else's eyes, he had went above and beyond, damn near achieving the impossible.

 _Like a superhero,_ he echoed contemptuously.

It certainly put things into perspective for him, in a way that probably no one else would be able to understand without thinking he was crazy. Well, everyone except Max.

A few moments passed before Warren imparted his feedback. It was carefully phrased, telling everything but the truth. “Kate’s my friend. Maybe not as close to her as Max is, but a friend all the same. I figured something was wrong because she had looked so down these past couple of days, like she had been crying every day and night. I just never imagined that she would try and do something this drastic.”

“I know right?” Dana dejectedly agreed. “I should’ve seen the signs. If I had just paid attention to what was happening right in front of my face..! I could’ve..” Her voice choked.

“Don’t blame yourself for it.” Warren wrenched his face back to look her straight in the eyes. They were huge, glassy domes. “What happened with Kate was something that probably couldn’t have been prevented, honestly. That dumb video was already posted, and people were already teasing her about it without bothering to know the full story.”

“But I was at that party too, Warren.” Dana protested, sounding tortured. “I could’ve stopped her from doing what she did, but I didn’t. I was with all the other bystanders, goading her on to kiss all those gross dudes, down that beer, and do those body shots. _I_ did that, Warren. How could I call myself a friend of hers?”

Warren sympathized before the weight of what Dana was saying truly sunk in. “But you were probably drunk though, like everybody else.” He rambled, “It's a party right? Everybody would be acting a little wild. You couldn't have known―”

“Being drunk isn’t an excuse here,” She told him sternly, metaphorically crumpling up his useless assurances and throwing them far out of sight. “Not in my defense, or anybody else's. The video shouldn’t have been uploaded in the first place. And I know Victoria’s sneaky ass was behind it all. She's _always_ doing petty stuff like this. I just wish I had stood up to her about it this time.”

As she gradually returned to her task, her movements seemed heavier, as if physically weighed down by some guilt she truly believed she deserved.

Noticing this, Warren’s gaze flickered downward for a second in thought, eyelashes dusting his cheeks, before coming back up in a similar motion. “Why didn’t you?”

The question came rolling out his mouth before he could really settle on the implications. It wasn’t meant to be accusatory or anything of the sort, just curiosity.

To Dana, however, it was like she had just been hurled front and center in the spotlight. Her tight expression slackened and then became even more bolted in place, and she released a hot puff of air through her nose.

“I don't know. Scared, I guess.” She loosely suggested.

Warren frowned. “Of what?”

“Of what Victoria is capable of. Of what she…what she could've done to me. I know it sounds really selfish and is such a lame excuse, but Victoria is so unpredictable. She even turned Juliet against me, my own best friend. She really made her believe I sexted her boyfriend.” It sounded like it was still a sore memory for her, the hurt evident underneath her angry tone.

“She locked me in my room for hours, in case you’re wondering.” She added as an afterthought, answering the question Warren hadn’t asked.

“Oh.”

“My reasons seemed to matter at the time, at least I thought they mattered. But after seeing all the crap Kate was put through, crap that was happening right under my nose, my reasons didn’t hold a candle to that. I just wish I could’ve showed her how much I actually cared for her.”

“You still can.” Warren breezily assured, seeing an opening. “She’s resting at the hospital right now, but whenever you get the chance, you can visit her. I’m sure she’ll really appreciate it.”

Dana seemed skeptical, but there was no mistaking the hopeful gleam that suddenly sparkling in her eyes. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

She paused, then, hesitantly, allowed a tiny smile to take over her. “Okay.” She conceded. “I think I’ll visit her today then, and I’ll take Trevor with me too.”

Warren perked at the mention of Trevor’s name, taking less than half a second to make connections. His subsequent grin practically spread from ear to ear.

“You and Trevor Yard? _Do_ tell.” Warren singsonged.

Dana blushed brilliantly and playfully swatted her free hand at him, bopping him on the nose.

“It’s not like that, you goof. We’re just...friends.” She supplied.

“No worries, I’m not here to judge. Trust me, I’m probably the last person at Blackwell who has any right to voice my opinion on who should be with who.”

Warren was at the very bottom on the chain of romance compared to everyone else, and he didn’t bother trying to contend with it anymore, only accepting it. Of course, while he was still on his quest of pining after Max, Warren realized that he didn’t even know for a fact whether or not she was already in a relationship. He had kinda assumed she wasn't, which was starting to seem more and more absurd the longer he thought about it.

Max was, after all, everything Warren ever wanted in a girl. Smart, beautiful, funny, and witty, not to mention she actually enjoyed listening to his stories. If he ever introduced her to his parents, Warren knew without a seed of doubt that they would absolutely adore her. His mom would probably try to invite her over for dinner any chance she got, and his dad would probably tell her countless embarrassing stories from Warren's childhood.

As though having read through his mind, Dana turned the tables on him, imitating his jesting intonation. “What about you and Maxine?” She said, “Word on the block is that you’ve been trying to put the moves on her.”

Warren was horrified. “Wh-who told you that?” He stammered, gazing at her like she had just told him she was here to execute him. The way he saw it, she might as well have.

She giggled at his expense. “Anybody can see you crushing on her from a mile away, Warren. It’s not rocket science. Besides, I think you two would be such a cute, nerdy little couple. You have a lot in common.”

Warren started to feel his face tingle in a flustered burn, partially unseen by the thin layer of concealer Dana put on to it. Him and Max? Together? It did sound like a dream come true for Warren, a dream he would love to see come to life, even though the chances were slim to none. When he thought about them actually.. _dating_ , Warren imagined countless movie nights filled with bowls of extra buttery popcorn, enough candy to make a dentist have an aneurysm, and a liter or two of soda, snuggled up together in his bed and watching movies from dusk till dawn.

He saw long, picturesque walks on the beach and strolls through the park, their hands intertwined. Max would take out her camera and point it at him, and he would strike a silly pose, beaming at her while she hid a criminally adorable laugh behind her hand and snapped the button, watching as the photo whirred out.

Envisioning himself at Max’s side used to be the only thing Warren pondered on a daily basis. Now with the knowledge of the impending storm, her powers, _his_ powers, and the fear of wondering what else the week could possibly bring, it had left a significant dent in his once impervious fantasies. They were almost delusions to him now.  

If Max ended up returning his affections, then Warren would be over the moon, no doubt. But if, and it was a pretty big if, that the time came, he didn’t have the luxury of being naive anymore. That was stripped away from him the moment he woke up from that nightmare. Everything he once knew was being brought into question, like treading over glass walkways he thought were safe, only to look back and wonder if he had missed a crack in the surface.

Warren acknowledged the reality that his world was changing, and by the time he came out on the other side of whatever all this was, returning to normality would be next to impossible.

And that scared him.

“I guess..we do.” He eventually mumbled in response, a distant emptiness to his eyes that Dana didn’t notice. “I guess we do..”

****

~

****

Warren nearly gave in to the urge to go and confess to Max what he had gotten himself into; of what he had done. Of his deception, his privy into Nathan’s deepest, darkest secrets, and now of the one sided mexican standoff that nearly got his head blown off.

The impulse had only been made worse as he left Dana’s room and stole a glance at Max’s door right down the hall, almost mocking him, like it knew of his wrongdoings and was spearing him on a metaphorical pike for it. Warren knew fully well that he was up to his neck in a muddy pit of guilt, only a few more inches shy of being completely submerged. He couldn’t shake off the feeling, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, the only candid option that came to mind being to admit what he had done.

He actually came so close to giving in that he nearly knocked on Max's door, twice, elevating a loose fist inches away from the hardwood surface only to retract it at the last second as his nausea worsened. Damn nerves.

He turned tail and headed in the opposite direction. It’d be just his luck that somebody thought he was an intruder and called campus security.

As Warren softly pushed open the main door, trotting down the steps, he contemplated Max’s reaction. Would she have been mad at him? Would she want to stop being his friend, knowing he looked her in the eyes and lied clean through his teeth? Warren sure would.

According to what Max had told him on the steps, she was trying to keep him out of Mr. Jefferson's clutches. Problem is, Warren didn't know anything about Jefferson. Besides the fact that he was a popular teacher, and that most girls couldn't keep his name out of their mouths to save their lives. He didn't know what kind of things he could've done in the other timeline (saying that still sounded so odd to Warren) that would've convinced Max she needed to protect him.

..Not that Warren needed to be protected. He's been doing just fine since grade school. If anything, he needed to protect Max from whatever it is she was talking about. Warren was pretty damn positive that Nathan was the one they needed to look out for, and last night only further proved his point. Dude was batshit crazy.

His trek back to the boy's dorm was mostly uneventful.

Until his phone began buzzing.

The Harry Potter theme song echoed throughout the area around him, and Warren's heart sank instantly. He took out his phone in increments, Nathan's words ringing in his head.

_I’ll figure out what to do with you tomorrow._

Maybe it was just Max, Warren reasoned, more to reassure himself than anything. He hadn't talked to her since yesterday, after the major bombshell she had dropped on him, and Warren would be a dirty liar if he said he wasn't worried about her. She had been reclusive enough these past few days, and honestly, Warren was desperate for any bone she threw his way.

So he continued to slide his phone from its confines, expecting and hoping to see Max's caller ID on the screen.

When the singular word _Mom_ popped up on screen instead, genuine surprise hit him first, before relief came in like a tidal wave.

His mother usually didn’t call unless something had occurred in or around Arcadia Bay, worried that something had happened to him. It could be something as small as a minor increase in the temperature, and Warren could bet that his mom would be blowing up his phone asking if he had working ac in his dorm room.

He had a feeling he knew what she was fretting over this time, and he answered the phone with an expectant breath.

 _“Daniel! Honey, are you alright?!”_ His mother’s voice was a shriek through the speaker. _“I heard about what happened at your school!”_

Normally, Warren would’ve cringed himself into an early grave at the usage of his middle name, but hearing his mom say it in such a way distracted him from it.

“I’m okay, Mom. Really. Just got a little soaked from the rain is all.”

His light attempt at smoothing the rockiness of the conversation seemed to work, for his mother’s frantic energy on the other line unmistakably went down. She breathed more easily into the phone, _“Thank goodness. When I saw your school on the news, my first thought was that something had happened to you, and my heart just sank. I had to call right away, your father and I were worried sick.”_

Warren mentally took five steps backwards and physically stopped walking altogether, trying to wrap his head around the words that just left his mother’s mouth.

“What..it’s on the news? Since when?”

She produced this weird choked noise, one that sounded like both a gasp and a scoff. From that alone, Warren could see the incoming chastise looming over the horizon.

 _“Goodness, I thought you of all people would know that. Aren’t you always on a computer anyway?”_ She rambled. _“It happened at one of the most prestigious schools in Oregon, so it’s only natural that the news would spread like wildfire. So far all the local news stations can’t seem to clam up about it. Don’t even get me started on the articles.”_

“Right.” He answered succinctly. It didn’t really slot into place with the conversation, but it was the only thing Warren manage past the jumbled mess he called his thought process.

His mom’s mini rant eventually ceased, and her soft tone reemerged. _“I’m just glad you’re okay. It’s hard enough being almost two hours away from you. If I could pick up this house and move it myself, I would. But it’s a reasonable sacrifice if it means you getting your proper education.”_

“I know.” Warren sighed, suddenly feeling homesick. What he wouldn’t give to just be able to flop down on his bed and not have somebody throw a football at his wall for it.

_“How is school going, by the way?”_

“School’s going great, mom. As great as it can be anyway. After what happened yesterday.”

 _“I’m still sorry you had to go through that. But I’m also really proud of you.”_ He could hear his mother's smile, “ _We both are. Saving that girl the way you did. That takes bravery, Warren.”_

Warren pressed his mouth together, flicking the shaggy strands of his hair. Here was another person showering him in praise for his efforts, and he shook off every last drop. “It was nothing.” He dismissed. “I wasn’t the only one up there you know. On the roof.”

 _Max was with me,_ Warren nearly blurted, but he had to stop and remind himself that his mom didn’t even know who Max was. Or what she meant to him.

 _“Oh yes, there was another girl with you wasn’t there?”_ His mother chirped. _“She had short brown hair, freckles, pretty blue eyes?”_

It was a rough description, bare bones in fact, but it was all it took for Warren to blush like a schoolgirl. “Yeah...yeah, that was her. Her name’s Max.”

 _“Max?”_ She echoed thoughtfully. _“That’s a cute name. Is it short for something?”_

 _Max, never Maxine,_ he recited the brunette’s catch phrase impulsively to himself. If Max overheard his conversation, she would have a fit. Warren ducked his head sheepishly as he practically whispered it, feeling like he was uttering a forbidden word.

“Uh, yeah. Maxine.”

Just like he expected, his mother gushed at the revelation. _“Maxine!”_ She squealed. His ear disagreed with the sound, and Warren peeled himself away from the receiver briefly. _“That’s an absolutely beautiful name! So lovely! Why doesn’t she go by that instead?”_

“Mom, she just doesn’t.” Warren weakly huffed into the phone. He threw a hand over his embarrassed face as he cautiously entered the boys’ dorm, which was just as quiet as the girls. Warren had to recall that it was still early in the morning.

He rounded the corner, briefly thinking he heard someone in the bathroom, but he quickly shook it off.

_“Does she hate her name?”_

“What? No, she doesn’t hate her name.” Warren got defensive at the mere inference. “She just prefers to go by Max.”

 _“Well, I think Maxine is cuter. And you obviously know her well enough, but you never told me about her before.”_ His mom now accused, a playful lilt to her words. Warren already knew where this was going, and he wanted to end the call before they tread any further on uncharted territory.

“Hey, um, Mom, I’ll call you back.” He flickered his gaze around, looking for something to supply his excuse. He could wallow in his guilt later, but right now Warren wanted nothing more than to get the hell off the line. “I’m outside taking your call and I’m gonna be late for class if I don’t get going, soo...”

And just like that, the prior conversation was completely forgotten. If there was one kryptonite that worked like a charm against his mother, it was mentioning anything about his education. Interfering with his education? You could forget it. _“Why didn’t you say so earlier? Forget about me, you better go to class young man! Shoo!”_ She commanded.

It was both a blessing and a curse to have such domineering parents. “Alright. Bye, mom.”

_“Bye, honey.”_

A single beep, and then their lifeline was severed once again, dropping Warren back in the crazy world he had constructed around himself. And he wasn’t talking about school either.

He could only think about Nathan and what his plans were for him. He made it crystal clear that Warren was still up to his neck in shit, but he hadn’t clarified what was going to come of it. All Warren could really do was rock on his heels and sit around waiting until something happened, and that was more nerve wracking than he imagined it to be.

The only thing that eased him through this all was knowing that he still hadn’t involved Max in it, and he had no plans on doing so either. He fucked up royally, that had already been established, but the good news was that Max didn’t know that. Warren could handle it, he was sure, and he had handled problems before himself. Granted, they weren’t of the same magnitude and they certainly didn’t involve crazy rich boys with guns, but it was close enough.

Deciding it best to just wait in his room for a while, Warren sighed anxiously, reaching for the knob―

“Hey, asshole!”

Warren snapped his head around so fast, he damn near gave himself whiplash.

There, standing as an intimidating duo, was none other than Blackwell’s local jocks, Logan and Zach. It wasn’t the fact that they were standing there that scared the crap out of Warren, but because of the expressions they both wore. It wasn’t the usual mocking sneers they wore day in and day out, even as they were punching the ever living shit out of people, but these disturbingly serious frowns, equally grave and stoney, like somebody had just told them all the puppies in the world had died.

..Did they even like puppies?

Well, regardless of whether or not they liked puppies, Warren knew they probably weren’t here to discuss anything that had to do with animals.

Logan lifted his head towards him. “You thought we forgot about the ass beating we were gonna give you yesterday?”

Warren suddenly recalled the visceral memory of him cowering on the bathroom floor, hiding from the two who stood before him now. Sometime between getting breakfast with Stella and everything that happened after that, the event had slipped from his train of thought. He had been so caught up in his investigation that he pretty much shut out everything that wasn’t relevant, and now they had come knocking in the form of two meathead jocks.

Meathead jocks who were fully capable of kicking his ass, that is.

Already, Warren was determining his method of escape, all while keeping a cautious eye on the approaching vultures. He could run past them, but Warren wasn't exactly fast, and he would probably trip and fall on his face anyway. Maybe his room? If he was quick enough, he could lock them out. But then he would be locked inside with two angry teenagers on the other side!

It was times like this that Warren seriously wished he knew how to control his powers.

Apparently, Logan didn’t take too kindly to his silence. He took a step forward, eating up the distance between them. “You deaf? We’re talking to you, dipshit!” He bellowed.

Warren could hear perfectly fine, but he dared not say any smart ass remarks right now. He instinctively retreated back, also, unfortunately, letting go of his door’s handle, which effectively crossed that route out off the list. Shit.

“Look at this fuckin’ pussy, man.” Zachary gloated, joining Logan’s side from where he was previously taking up the rear. “He was all talk to Nate, but now look at him.”

“He’s a bitch.” Logan agreed, though not sharing his friend’s jubilation. He maintained that same look from earlier, which was genuinely terrifying to Warren. He shot a helpless glance over his shoulder, but the wall grinned right back at him, unmoving and unsympathetic.

He was fucked.

“What, not gonna say anything now?” Zach continued with his verbal assault, undaunted and almost feral in his movements. He was on Warren in seconds, shoving him with so much force he stumbled back at least three more steps. “Come on, what happened to the ‘super hero’ that saved Marsh yesterday?”

“Of course he’s not gonna say anything.” Logan muttered before lunging, moving surprisingly quick for his size. Warren saw him coming, his fist leveled, but he didn’t know where he was coming, not until he felt something collide with the flat of his stomach. It was a solid, straight on punch, and though he didn’t cry out, he did double over, hissing through the pain.

But they were ruthless, and next thing he knew, a hand was clamped in his hair, pulling at his strands to force him back him up. His scalp immediately burned in protest, leaving Warren no choice to raise his chin up again. Moments after, he was on the receiving end of a punch to the face, his nose spilling out fresh blood over knuckles.

“Damn..!” He heard Zachary cackle, admiring the punch Logan just delivered. “He’s already gushing like a cheap whore!”

Warren still didn’t give them the satisfaction of crying out, but there were telltale pricks of tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, which alluded to just how much he was suffering.

There was virtually no reprieve from one hit to another, as Zachary had already inflicted his own strike and was snatching him up by his bicep for more leverage, gearing up for the next. As Warren unconsciously steeled himself for the impact, he silently wondered when the abuse would end.

“Warren!”

Somebody else’s voice cut through the commotion, clear as could be, despite the two jocks yelling obscenities at him. It earned everybody’s attention, including Logan and Zachary, who stopped their assault to turn and address the newcomer. Warren swished his pained eyes to the slightly overweight boy down the hall, looking as brave as he could.

Daniel stood with the poise of a western gunslinger, his eyes flashing determinedly behind the glasses hugging the sides of his temples. He had one arm tucked behind his back, the other stuck straight out to point a finger at the two in front.

“Let him go! Now!” He demanded, spanish accent heavy on his tongue, laced with fierce authority. Warren sent a silent plea with his expression for him to get away, but if Daniel noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it.

Meanwhile, Logan and Zachary shared a bewildered glance between themselves, looking at Daniel, looking at each other, looking at Daniel again, before finally exploding into a roar of laughter.

“Are you fucking serious?” Logan questioned through his uncontrollable sniggering, as though he had heard the greatest joke in the world. “I must be high as shit right now, because there’s no way your fatass is talking to us like that.”

Daniel’s pointing finger trembled a little before he brought his entire arm back to his side. “I said let him go, both of you!” He repeated, then, added the last part for good measure, “Or else.”

Warren’s heart skipped a beat at the ‘or else’ part, and it didn’t help that Logan and Zach burst into obnoxious laughter all over again.

“Dude, are you hearing this?” The shaggy-haired one of the duo asked his partner in crime, disbelief all over his face. “I didn’t even know the mute could talk.”

“Same here.” Logan wiped a tear from his eye, now turning his entire body so that he was facing Daniel. “But the mute should’ve kept his mouth shut. What the hell are you gonna do about it, diabetes?” He questioned.

The smirk on Daniel’s face was near imperceptible. “Come closer and find out.”

Those five words was what finally crushed what amusement the jocks had found in the situation. Zachary’s grip on Warren’s shirt loosened, and before he could blink, let alone brace himself, he was being shoved forward to the ground. He lost his footing, crashing below, and his ankle wrenched uncomfortably beneath him. Warren yelped before stumbling the rest of the way over to Daniel’s side.

His whisper was rushed and out of breath. _“Dude, not that I don’t appreciate this, but what the hell do you plan to do against these two?”_

Daniel turned to Warren, seeming to wince as he skimmed his eyes over his bleeding nose, before turning back to the fuming jocks on the other side of the hall.

“Giving these fuckers a nice shower.” He said cryptically. Warren furrowed his brows but said nothing more.

“If you wanted an ass-kicking so bad, all you had to do was ask.” Logan cracked his knuckles, glaring. With that, the two charged forward, football formation, and in the same instance, Daniel geared his arm back and threw whatever it was behind his back. A water bottle, though the substance within it was not quite clear enough to be mere h2o. It soared in the air and met the jocks halfway, Logan having the unfortunate pleasure of it collide with his face. Since the cap had been loose, the water flew unchecked from the bottle, sloshing all over the two at random, before bouncing harmlessly to the ground.

For a long moment, there was nothing said or done, only the slowly sinking realization of what just happened. If anything, it was as if they had merely been innocuously doused with water.

Then, the smell _hit._

It was like somebody had taken the stench from the worse public bathrooms on earth and condensed it into liquid form, making for a gnarly odor that was already filling the boys’ dorm in its entirety.

 _“Yo, what the fuck?!”_ Zachary thundered, furiously scratching all over, trying to get the horrific substance off of him.

Logan did the same, sputtering as the liquid dribbled into his mouth. They looked outrageously silly hopping around in their futile efforts to clean themselves, their malicious intent lost for the moment.

“Holy crap.” Warren said under his breath, gazing in stupefied awe. Daniel began hastily tugging him away from the scene.

“We should skedaddle.” He advised, breathing quite heavily. “It’ll keep them busy for a while, but not for long.”

Warren nodded and followed close behind, or at least as close as his sore ankle would allow, the sounds of Zach and Logan’s steady stream of cursing fading into the background.

****

~

****

They ended up making their way into the main building, the nurse’s office the first destination in mind. A few classes were already going on, which meant the hallways were mostly empty and quiet, and luckily, neither Warren or Daniel had any early morning classes. Their trip was uneventful, disregarding the few perplexed glances they got as they went past, and soon enough they got to the nurse’s office, safe and out of breath.

Unfortunately, while in their rush to get in, they also scared the poor nurse half to death. Their apologies were unrelenting, but she assured them both that all was well. Afterwards, they explained the situation, particularly why there was blood gushing from Warren’s nose like a fountain and why they had been running in the first place.

They were honest, but of course, didn’t mention the part where Daniel threw literal ass water at Zach and Logan.

However, they still had to wait, as the nurse was already dealing with a sick student, complaining about pains since eating the questionable food served at yesterday’s lunch. Warren was still bleeding though, so the nurse kindly provided him a box of Kleenex before herding them both outside.

Which was where they were now, sitting in a comfortable silence in the tiny office. Warren had one napkin crammed up a nostril, sitting with his head lowered between his knees, the crazed adrenaline from the event at last winding down. For the most part, he was feeling okay. The only thing that bothered him in terms of physicality were his nose and ankle. He wouldn’t be surprised if he sprained it or something from the way he had been pushed. Warren could deal, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

In the chair placed a few feet away sat Daniel, his legs pressed together and his hands folded politely in his lap. Every few seconds he would fidget, look out the window blinds, then blink at Warren, repeating that cycle like some kind of tick.

Though Warren wasn’t looking at him, the heat of Daniel’s concerned gaze was getting much too intense to ignore, and it was what ultimately drew his head back up to attention, passing a refreshing grin once they locked eyes.

“I know I already said this, but thanks, man. You didn’t have to do that for me but you did anyway.”

Daniel blinked in slight surprise. “Don’t mention it. Those guys had it coming anyway.”

“Using the water bottle, that was..that was genius.” Warren’s grin expanded. “It was like watching that thing fly in motion when you throw it, and then when it hit Logan’s face? He ate that thing for fucking breakfast.”

Warren didn’t know what he was hoping for, but the snort and giggle that he got out of Daniel was rewarding for some reason. The feeling was ambivalent.

“I’ve been wanting to do something like that for a while now,” Daniel admitted slyly, and Warren could see now that the guy was practically glowing.

“What was that stuff in it anyway?” He asked.

“A mixture of itching powder and liquid ass.” Daniel explained. “Back home, my brother and I were always pulling pranks on each other; always trying to get the one up. I had ordered some stuff online that I was going to use to prank him with, but I never got the chance to before I came here.”

Warren excitedly leaned forward, drawn into the story like a moth to a flame. “You were a prankster?”

Daniel gave an abashed nod, as though it was his first time telling somebody about it. Maybe it was. “Aside from drawing, pranking was one of my favorite things to do.” He stated.

“Was, or is?”

“Was.” Daniel clarified. “I still like to come up with new ideas, but I don’t do anything with them. Here at Blackwell, I didn’t feel like it was the right environment for me to prank. So I just focused on drawing.”

Warren hummed thoughtfully, picking up on the downhearted note of Daniel’s voice. He couldn’t imagine ever losing his passion for science. That would be like cutting off his left arm.

Now that it occurred to him, Warren never really even talked to the guy before, and he didn’t know much about him either. He definitely seemed quiet and friendly enough, and he just stepped into the line of fire to save him out of total free will. It was still mind boggling. Confusing and near incomprehensible, but Warren wasn’t going to complain.

He melted further into the chair’s cushion, letting his head softly fall backwards. He didn’t let himself get too comfortable, but he could afford to let his eyes shut for a second.

Weird, even after beat up, Warren was still more worried about Nathan. A bullet to the skull was undoubtedly more threatening than a few punches to the face. And besides, it wasn’t like it was his first time getting picked on by the jocks. If there was anything he learned, it was that bullies always came back for more. You could treat them as kindly as possible, and still count on getting your head crammed in a toilet the same day.

However, Warren hadn’t even fought back against them. Daniel had been the one to break up their fight, giving them a long overdue taste of their own medicine. While he would admit that it was fairly fucking cool during the time, he couldn’t help but wonder what the repercussions would be later on. Not for him per say, but for his newfound friend.

Warren liked Daniel a lot already, and he’d be damned if he had to take the brunt of his endless list of problems.

He didn’t even realize he had been openly staring at the other boy until Daniel blinked and cocked his head at him in this bird-like way, thick eyebrows twisted up in blameless confusion.

“Are you okay, Warren?”

“Yeah, totally.” Warren murmured in quiet reply, breaking the eye contact hesitantly. “I was just thinking about Logan and Zachary again.”

“Why?” Daniel asked him, even though there was a resigned understanding flickering behind those glasses of his.

“I don’t want those jerks to start coming after you too. All because of me.” Warren deflated at the very idea, and he almost wanted to protest the warm smile that twitched on Daniel’s lips.

“ _En los malos tiempos, mantén la cabeza alta.”_

The words flowed off his tongue in quick, smooth succession, going in and out Warren’s ears before he could get a grasp on it. His face was apologetically confused.

“Sorry, my spanish is a little rusty.”

Daniel chuckled at him, cheeks rising endearingly. “No worries. It basically means ‘in bad times, keep your head up’. When I was young, my mother always used to tell me that.”

“In bad times, keep my head up,” Warren repeated, letting the saying roll around on his lips. It took only a few seconds for him to decide that he liked it. It definitely didn’t serve as a calm to the growing storm inside him, but it was a nice string of words. “Alright.”

Letting his body drape over the side of the chair for a moment, Warren plucked the bloodied napkin from his nose, hopeful for a second, only to quickly have to stick another one up there as another rush of wetness came barreling down his nasal canals.

Stupid jocks.

“Still bleeding?”

Warren solemnly nodded his head to the sound of Daniel’s soft voice, not looking at him. He miserably tossed his old napkin in the trash bin gradually filling with bloodied kleenex tissues. “

Still a total Niagara Falls over here. God, I hate those guys.”

“I second that.” Daniel added. “I just don’t understand how people who bully and harass others are held at such a high degree of popularity here. Or anywhere, really.”

“Welcome to high school,” Warren scoffed, entirely sarcastic. “Where only the biggest douches thrive and prosper.”

“Did they hurt you anywhere else?” Daniel questioned out of the blue, sounding more concerned than he had before. Warren flashed him a glance out of his peripherals, and sure enough, his expression was the perfect embodiment of his worried tone. Imploring eyes and all. Warren then glanced down at himself, at his weirdly outstretched leg and the hand absently making a pattern of circles over his stomach where a fist had been.

Suddenly aware of his current position, Warren squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

“Um, a little, but not much,” he said, trying to make the issue less prominent than it appeared. “Logan only punched me in the stomach, and Zachary pushed me to the ground, so besides a little indigestion and my ankle hurting a bit, I’m just fine.”

If Daniel was convinced, he sure as hell didn’t show it. The second it presented itself, Warren pounced on the window of opportunity to change the subject.

“So..play any good video games lately?”

****

~

****

As fate would have it, both Warren and Daniel spent a good half an hour just talking about video games, which branched into the topics of anime, movies, cult films, and even their plans for the future. For Warren, it was a lot different from talking with Max, since she only shared a choice-few of Warren’s interests, but with Daniel, it was like talking with a clone of himself. The last person who he had clicked with this fast was an old friend he had back in middle school, and even then, that so called friend left Warren high and dry once he found other friends with more...intriguing interests, to say the least.

The only reason why his conversation with Daniel didn’t venture any further was because the nurse came in to retrieve him, having finally did all she could to tend to her sickly patient.

Even though Warren initially voted against it, he ended up parting ways with Daniel for the time being, who assured him that he was going to talk to Wells about the situation. The mention of Wells admittedly scared Warren pissless, but Daniel insisted he was going to try and keep his name out of it.

Warren already trusted Daniel enough, so he let him go with only a slightly heavy heart.

Thankfully, his time in the nurse’s room wasn’t all that long. He didn’t need anything more than a nasal strip for his nose, which he silently feared was broken. To know that it wasn’t put Warren at ease.

The bruise on his stomach wasn’t as bad as he thought either. It was plum-colored and ugly for sure, but as the nurse explained, it would fade away on its own. An icepack had been offered to him anyway, but Warren’s decline was polite.

When the time came to examine his ankle, however, it was discovered that while he hadn’t totally sprained it, he had jarred it just enough to keep it ripely sore for the rest of the day. Being a school nurse and not a licensed doctor, all she could do was offer him another ice pack for it, which Warren did take this time. She looked genuinely torn over the fact that she couldn’t provide much else, even though Warren insisted she had done plenty. It was on his way out the door that she had asked him if he had wanted to stay and lie down on the bed for a while, and Warren had to admit that the offer was far too tempting.

Until Nathan popped in his head, and the feeling of temptation went up in flames.

Warren willed the corner of his mouth to twitch up in a rueful smile, deliberately neglecting his true wishes.

“I'll be fine. Thanks.” He left before the nurse could so much as utter a word. He regretted his decision before he even made it out into the hallways. Before he went out the front doors of the school, and down the steps to the campus yard. The grass was damp under his sneakers, morning dew from yesterday’s showers clinging to his limp shoelaces.

It felt like his legs were moving on their own accord at this point, and Warren was just tagging along for the ride.

They took him to the empty picnic bench, and he plunked down heavily on a spot that wasn’t too slicked with rain. It was there that the thoughts Warren had kept under crude wraps broke free.

It was hard to even focus on any one issue at a time, for they all screamed with urgency and immediate attention, something that Warren was in short supply of.

Stupid Nathan. Stupid gun. Stupid files.

 _Stupid me._ Warren added to himself.

If only he hadn’t gone sticking his nose in other people’s business. If only he hadn’t been so damn stubborn and just listened to Max when she said stay out of it.

If only he had never even got his powers to begin with.

If only, if only.

There were so many potential ifs floating around; Warren never felt more regretful in his entire life.

Why couldn’t somebody else have gotten his powers? Warren wasn’t cut out for sleuthing around, lying to people he cared about, and still trying to pretend like he wasn’t falling apart at the seams. And even if he did manage to solve the whole Nathan situation, there was still the storm he had to worry about, which was an entirely different issue he hadn’t even gotten around to tackling yet. It all made him want to pull his hair out.

Before Warren could even begin to settle into his self-pitying rut, the sound of the loudspeakers crackling to life abruptly rippled across the campus, accompanied by a somewhat obnoxious beep.

 _“Pardon this interruption,”_ a booming voice droned, bass and leaden with demanding authority that was partly concealed by grace. Warren’s heart flew to his throat as he heard the all-too familiar voice.

 _“This is Principal Wells.”_ The man informed, as if that wasn’t already obvious. _“May Logan Robertson and Zachary Riggins report to my office, immediately. Thank you.”_

Warren relaxed once Wells’ voice fizzled out of existence again, his racing heart slowly calming down. Daniel had kept his promise after all. Warren hadn’t been called to the office, which meant that whatever Daniel told Principal Wells, he hadn’t at all mentioned Warren. He was essentially dealing with the situation by himself, even though it was Warren’s issue alone, an issue he had pretty much shoved on to Daniel. Knowing that was what stopped Warren from allowing himself to feel any relief for it. Just more shame.

Maybe it was better this way, who knows. At least he would be able to pursue his investigation without another blockage on his already pothole filled road.

That was the game plan anyway.

“Fuck, man. I can’t believe this shit..!” Somebody complained from up ahead of Warren, at least, it sounded like it came from in front of him. Warren swished his gaze around to pinpoint the source, when he picked up the stampeding of shoes somewhere behind the bend leading to the dormitories. He didn’t need to see them to know who it was. He was already up and ambling towards a nearby tree, trying to make himself as small as possible against the narrow bark.

Damn, by the time this was all over, he would be the best hide and seek player ever.

Warren quickly pushed the irrelevant thought aside and peeked out, just in time to see Logan and Zachary come tromping out across the grass in near perfect synch. They had changed clothes, but even from here, Warren could still pick up the lingering traces of stench that clung to their forms, just as foul as before. It was noticeable under the cologne they must’ve dunked themselves in to mask the smell, though it didn’t do much of anything for them, something Warren secretly had a feeling they were aware of.

“Those punks.” Logan snarled, pulling at the collar of the long sleeved shirt he was wearing, some random sports team’s logo printed on the front. He looked weird without his varsity jacket. “If I see them again, I’m beating their asses to the fucking ground, I don’t give a damn what Wells says. There’s just no way we can let this slide.”

Warren shied into the tree as Zachary smashed a fist against his open palm, loud enough to emit an audible smack.

“For once, I don’t give a shit about Graham. I’m just itching to punch that fat turd in his face.”

Warren was already in the midst of fretting over the wellbeing of his newly made friend, but hearing a threat openly proclaimed like that only quadrupled his worry.

“For fucking sure.” Logan nodded his head, the action almost unseen past his meaty neck. “Asshole got that disgusting shit all over my varsity jacket, bro. Nobody fucks with my jacket and gets away with it.”

“I’m with you man.” Zachary reassured him.

“Come on, let's just go and see what the hell Wells wants.”

The two unknowingly walked right on past Warren, thudding up the stairs into the main building, and disappearing out of his sight.

Even as the crisis was averted, Warren refused to peel himself away from his covert hiding place until the idle chatter of nature was the only sounds he could make out clearly again. Only when he confirmed that did Warren hesitantly skulk back to the table, his previous train of thought eviscerated beyond repair. Couldn't be helped, he figured.

_Buzz!_

The feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket stole Warren’s focus, his heart racing all over again. It would be just his luck…

Pulling out his phone to examine the lock screen, he stiffened at the message bar on the screen.

_New message from Unknown._

Oh, fuck.

Warren certainly didn’t have anybody listed as ‘Unknown’ on his contacts list, and he would never just give out his number to some random person he didn’t know. Which could only mean one thing.

_Nathan._

****

**_[Unknown, Today at 9:09 A.M.]_ **

****

_2whales in 15 min b there or else_

****

Warren collectively forgot how to human for a second.

Right as he felt himself about to be hit with a full blown panic attack, a voice in the back of his head told him to calm down. He listened.

Calming down took more time than Warren had meant to allot, and by the time he came back to his senses, 7 minutes had came and went, which meant he had exactly 8 minutes left for his apparent deadline.

The knowledge had him bolting to the parking lot, the pain in his ankle forgotten.

****

~

****

He sat restlessly at his booth in the Two Whales, struggling to keep his nervousness under wraps. No matter how hard he seemed to try, he couldn't keep still. Anytime the door would open and the bell would innocently chime, Warren jumped and shot a panicked glance at whoever came in, only to melt back into a half-assed state of calm when it wasn’t Nathan.

He genuinely didn’t know if he should’ve been relieved whenever it turned out to be just a scruffy looking fisherman, or a grumbling truck driver, sinking onto a cracked vinyl seat and waiting to be served. Not knowing when Nathan was supposed to show up was more unsettling than he thought was possible. The guy didn't even have the decency to tell him what was going on. The near incoherent text he got couldn't have possibly been any more vague than it was, yet that incoherent message had managed to put the fear of God in Warren.

Deep down, a part of him raved and ranted about how irrational he was being right now, and despite how much sense it made, Warren couldn’t find it in him to listen to it this time. He had already plugged his fingers in his ears and continued to wait like the irrational idiot he was, hoping time would go by faster if he kept checking his phone every two minutes.

It wasn't even five minutes later when Warren’s stomach began to rumble.

And it wasn’t a soft rumbling either. It was a full on, ‘sounding like a dying whale’ kind of rumble, the one where you try to move around noisily or cough into your hand to cover it up, but just end up looking weird in the process of doing so. Considering he hadn’t eaten since yesterday, before the whole Kate situation, to say he was a tad bit peckish was kind of an understatement. Once again, his common sense had to chime in and remind him that he was literally sitting in a place filled with damn good food, and that all he had to do was signal Joyce.

Yet as it seemed, Warren’s brain short circuited, denying himself the pleasure of getting to scarf down one of the Two Whales’ famous mouth watering burgers. Instead, he sat and suffered, cramming a fist into his stomach as if that would stop his gut from performing its one man opera.

“Honey, are you here to order something, or do you just like sitting in here?”

Feeling like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Warren stopped what he was doing, now focusing on the task of dredging up a smile he hoped didn’t appear as mechanical and fake as much as it felt. “Hey, Joyce.”

Joyce gave him a parsing tilt of her head, a tiny gesture that carried an overwhelming amount of feeling behind it. “Something the matter?” She inquired. “You look troubled, hun.” She wiggled about, currently in the midst of balancing a tray full of food tucked into the smooth of her hip. “Did you hurt yourself again?”

“It’s nothing,” Warren answered a little too quickly, not wanting to bring any unnecessary attention to himself. “I’m just super clumsy, is all.”

“Ran into another wall?” Joyce joked.

Warren didn’t really know what to say in response, so he played along. “I might as well have. I tripped getting out of bed this morning. Went face first into my dresser.”

As Joyce winced lightly, squeezing his shoulder in a sympathizing gesture, Warren realized he was getting better at lying. It was becoming more impulsive to him. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing anymore.

“I guess we’re all just a little out of sorts this morning,” she conceded. “I saw what happened at Blackwell yesterday. You and Max, helping that girl down from the ledge?”

“Oh, yeah that.” Warren didn’t mean for it to come out as tartly as it sounded, backtracking hurriedly. “I mean, yeah, Max and I were just trying to look out for Kate. People were giving her so much crap at school and it was really upsetting her.”

“That poor girl, bless her soul.” Joyce breathed, bracing one hand against the edge of the table. “I’ve seen her come in here a few times. Just as sweet as could be.”

“Kate is one of the _nicest_ people I know.” Warren added with great emphasis. “Kids at my school can be awful about bullying others. Maybe after yesterday they’ll finally change their attitudes about it.”

As far-fetched as it sounded, and as far-fetched Warren knew it was, he actually did feel some semblance of hope spark within him at his own words. Joyce’s encouraging smile only made that feeling grow, and a tiny grin broke free as she squeezed his shoulder one last time.

“Fingers crossed, hun. Now,” she said, grinning a brilliantly white grin. “What do you have a taste for today?”

Warren vocalized his indecision with a low hum, glancing at the platter full of food Joyce had. Bacon, eggs, a burger, roast turkey sandwich, fries―oh jeez.

He unconsciously went quiet as he marveled over the feast, and the waitress stifled a hearty laugh with her hand. “I know that look. Don’t worry, I won’t force anything heavy down on you, but how does a plate of tater-tots sound?”

 _Like heaven,_ Warren thought. “That sounds really good right now, thanks.” He spoke out loud, feeling the tension flow from his body. “Um, could I get a coke too, please?”

“No problem. I’ll be just a second.” With that, Joyce turned away on a dime to go deliver the savory food to its hungry patrons. If there was one thing Warren admired about the home-orientated waitress, it was her innate ability to remain upbeat and uplifting. He wished he could possess the same talent, especially considering how his own mood between now and yesterday had took a nosedive.

Warren didn’t allow himself to dwell on it for too long; he fell back into his pattern of looking at the door and glancing at his phone, though not as uneased as before. The murmurs of the diner’s inhabitants, the absent static of the tv, and the sounds of music coming from the dusty old jukebox filled his head with things other than suffocating thoughts, grounding him to reality, something he needed now more than ever.

As Joyce had promised, his order of tater-tots and a coke came in no time at all, placed before him with a gentle clunk of the ceramic and clink of the can. Hunger told him to begin devouring his food, but then suddenly anxiety was screaming not to touch anything. He felt unexplainable queasy, even though the tater-tots looked and smelled amazing.

He only convinced himself to try one after a few sips from his coke and a concerned look from Joyce.

Just as he already knew, it tasted great. But the way it sat on his stomach had him subtly inching the plate away. Warren swallowed hard, his chewing slowing to absent nibbles as he played mindlessly on his phone instead. Other people came and went while he stayed in the booth, only getting up once to go to the bathroom.

He thought about leaving on more than one occasion, but he never went through with any of it. Mainly because he didn't really enjoy the aspect of having a cap popped in his ass.

All he could do was muster up as much patience as he could. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go at the moment, and he wasn’t eager to get back to Blackwell in the slightest. Daniel may have said otherwise, more than likely out of kindness than anything else, but Warren knew he would be dragged into the jock situation again, one way or another. Whether by Wells or not, he didn't know, but he had a sinking feeling that lying low and waiting for the whole thing to blow over wouldn’t work this time around.

Warren was lazily tossing his ice pack between his hands when the entrance door opened and closed again, and suddenly a familiar head of slicked back locks was rounding the corner.

Nathan was back in his usual rich kid attire, as opposed to the casual get-up he had on last night, with a navy blue cardigan in place of a white one. The typical glares and disapproving scowls he got as he strolled past went unacknowledged, and Warren, for some reason, didn't choose to look elsewhere as Nathan’s eyes soon snagged on him. Those murky blues brightened ever so slightly, but not with a sheen of friendliness.

He claimed the seat across from Warren and his face broke into a mocking sneer, faint dimples lining the hollow slants of his cheeks.

He whistled loudly. “You look like shit.”

Of all the things Warren had been expecting to hear, that was definitely at the forefront of his mind. Knowing that compared to Nathan, he most likely looked like human dirt.

He sighed, somehow, a part of his anxiety chipping away. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Nathan’s smirk only grew. He appeared like he wanted to say something more, but instead, his gaze dropped to Warren’s plate. Specifically, on his tater-tots.

When he reached over in a blur of movement and took one, popping it into his mouth, Warren barely processed the action.

“Hey, wait a minute, those are mine―”

“Shut up.” Nathan commanded, curtailing Warren like it was nothing. He chewed on the tot obnoxiously, expression morphing into one of obscene consideration, before deciding to help himself to more.

He probably wasn’t getting those back.

“Well?”

Only slightly taken aback by the question, Warren uttered a confused, “Well what?”  

Nathan rolled his eyes in the most dramatic way possible, irises seeming to vanish for a split second. Warren absently wondered if they would get stuck like that one day.

“What else, shit for brains? Last night.”

Warren lifted his shoulder in an unforthcoming shrug. The insult, smoothly ignored. “What more could you possibly want to know?” He asked. “I told you everything.”

“Wrong. You told me everything that you _wanted_ me to know.” Nathan wagged an accusatory finger his way. “Just so I could get off your crack for the time being, right?”

 _Yes._ “No, dude, I swear, I told you everything that I knew.” Warren insisted, and then, murmured lowly, “I didn’t find much, anyway.”

Nathan's hand stilled dangerously. “If you’re lying to me―”

“I’m not!” Warren cried in exasperation. He pressed the heels of his palms to his forehead, unintentionally pushing some of his bangs out of the way. A headache the size of a bowling ball was thrashing against his skull.

He groaned. “Do you really think I have any reason to lie after seeing the kind of heat you’re packing?”

Nathan paused at that, appearing as though he was mulling over the logic Warren was desperately trying to convey. He hummed, evidently agreeing with said logic. Another tot disappeared from Warren’s plate.

“Good point,” Nathan said amidst bites. “Maybe you're not as stupid as I thought.”

“Thanks.” The brunette’s face quickly went slack with offense. “Wait a minute, ‘stupid’?”

“I take that back. Stupid and slow fits you nicely. You look like it too.”

Disarmed by the older’s snide remark, Warren shrunk back a little, his neck brimming with self conscious heat.

“Well you're not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself,” he uttered passively.

“You mean to tell me you don't like my stunning personality?” Nathan gasped, topping it in layers upon layers of oozing sarcasm. “I’m hurt.” Warren was quickly acknowledging the fact that that was the only tone Nathan knew. Well, that and anger.

“‘Stunning’ is not the word I would use for it.”

Nathan dropped the act, a dark smirk teasing on his lips. “Whatever. At least I'm not a walking cliché.”

“Cliché?” Warren was unaware of his own willingness to continue their mindless back and forth banter. “I don't think you have any room to talk about clichés, Nathan, ‘I'm rich and better than everyone’ Prescott.”

“Careful now,” Nathan quipped, catapulting a greasy tot at Warren’s exposed forehead. “I think too much salt will ruin these things.”

Warren’s usual overabundance of patience were doing somersaults off a cliff. Running a napkin over his forehead, what he said next came without filter. “Are you always this much of an asshole or does it just run in the family?”

Nathan snapped his head up at that, his expression now soured. “I’m sorry, come a-fucking-gain?”

Whatever Warren was going to say in response to Nathan’s question died on his lips once he remembered the whole reason why he was here to begin with. He breathed heavily through his nose, which ached a little at the motion, and begrudgingly backed down.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, I thought so too.” Nathan bit out, glaring at him for a couple seconds more before returning to what was once Warren’s food.

He didn’t even know how he was supposed to pick up the conversation again after that. That is, if he even was supposed to. Nathan had been the one to call him here, and for what? To freeload off of him? Which, wouldn’t make a lick of sense. Nathan was as privileged as privileged could get. He could pay for his own shit and then some. He didn’t need to piggyback off of people he hated, especially not him.

As if reading his thoughts word from word, Nathan snorted humorlessly, tearing through the silence between them like tissue paper. “If you think I came here just to remind you of how much of a dumbass you are, then you’re wrong.”

“Then what _did_ you come here for? A delicious, healthy breakfast?” Warren’s piss-poor attempt at a joke flopped before it even went anywhere, and the brow that climbed inches on Nathan’s forehead didn’t exactly help to boost his confidence either.

The chance to remedy his apparent blunder was gone the second Nathan spoke again. “I wasn't talking out of my ass when I told you I was gonna figure out how to deal with you today. Not even in the slightest.”

Warren swallowed back his sense of dreadful disappointment, his stomach involuntarily shuddering with anxiety.

“Going in my room to begin with was more than enough reason for me to beat the living shit outta you. Plenty, actually.” Nathan, in spite of himself, forced another hard-edged smirk, which looked more like a grimace than anything else. “But going through my _personal_ stuff? You must have a fucking death wish.”

Warren held on to every word he said, fearful that he might throw in some unforeseen hint at his inevitable punishment.

“It'd be different if you hadn't touched anything, but that's obviously not the case. You know about shit that you're not supposed to, Graham.” Nathan's usually pinched tone dipped in its pitch, more frigid than ever before. Warren felt like shitting bricks.

“I don't know much, okay?” He stammered. He didn't know why, but he felt like he had to defend himself somehow. To try and twist a situation that seemed so black and white into a manageable shade of gray. “I didn't get to look through everything. All I really did was just look up those drugs and see if any of those dates meant anything. I couldn't figure it out though.”

Nathan stopped at that, his hostility decreasing the slightest bit, but not by much.

“What about the flash drive?” He blurted, almost like he was slanging the sentence on the table, demanding an answer.

“I told you last night, no.” Warren fought back the waver in his voice. “You confronted me before I had the chance to look at it.” He reminded.

A furrowed zigzag of pinched skin formulated between Nathan's eyebrows, indicating he was troubled. Even though the very same expression had been present on him last night, it was still strange to see it on the cocky, beta male Prescott. Warren always thought that Nathan was impenetrable when it came to being bothered by something, but to find out that that wasn’t the case was rather interesting.

However, there was an near unshakable sense of regret that became bigger and bigger by the second. It was true that while he had soiled his opportunity to look through the flashdrive, whatever had been on it was what seemed to concern Nathan the most, if he had to ask him about it twice. The drugs and those dates could have correlated for anything really, and Nathan didn’t really press about that. Which pegged the question of _what_ the hell was on the flashdrive?

If Warren hadn’t fallen asleep and gotten dragged into that nightmare, he could have answered that question himself while he was still in possession of things he shouldn’t have been. Hell, he probably could have solved this whole thing by now, but no, he just _had_ to catch a couple winks of shuteye.

That was what brought on the feeling of self-loathing. Warren hated himself more than anything for letting his own incompetence get in the way of what was the perfect setup for his investigation. Everything, he literally had right between his fingers, and what did he do? Fall asleep.

On one side of the spectrum, Warren did know a lot more about drugs than he knew what to do with. Some of the information he dug up from the web actually helped explained some of the behaviors that Nathan exhibited, and he wouldn’t admit it to another breathing soul, but he kinda felt bad for the guy. Warren couldn’t imagine being doped up on so many drugs at once, and having to handle the onslaught of side effects that came with it.

The most he ever had to deal with was taking these high-dosage pain killers for the time he broke his wrist in gym class, and all those did was knock him out. The drugs that Nathan were on seemed like something they would administer to patients in a psych ward, with a straitjacket and all, and Nathan wasn’t _that_ off his rocker.

Was he?

“Hey, I’m talking to you, fuckface.”

Fingers flew to snap inches away from his nose and Warren quickly lurched back before he realized what it was. Nathan was giving him a hard look, clearly not at all pleased at the aspect of being ignored.

 _“Jeez,_ I’m listening.” Warren hissed anyway, the response more reactive than one concocted from conscious thought. Even Nathan could see very clearly just how much he was not listening, his mouth opening in a miffed snarl.

“Then what did I say?”

Warren mentally cursed at the question, knowing his lie was cut right in half. Still, he didn’t want to nor felt like flat out admitting it, so he let his imagination fill in the gaps. “You were still talking about the flashdrive, weren’t you?”

Warren didn’t know it was possible for someone to look so done with his shit until that very moment. Nathan’s face alone gave him an answer loud and clear, if his tightly closed eyes and monstrous intake of breath told him anything.

“No, I wasn’t,” he calmly said in a few moment's time, his voice strained with irritation.

Warren raised his hands defensively. “Okay, okay, sorry. I didn't hear you. I zoned out for a second.” Last thing he needed was to give the guy another reason to be pissed at him. “What were you talking about then?”

Nathan regarded his apologetic front with a touch of surprise, even if the rock solid clench in his chin didn't go anywhere. He looked Warren up and down in a steady, leveled gaze, the slow parting of his mouth hinting to a internal debate of whether or not he wanted to repeat what he'd said earlier.

“Rachel.” He gruffed shortly. “Heard of her?”

“Rachel…Amber?” Warren guessed, earning a half nod. “Who hasn’t? Her ‘Missing Person’ posters are all over Arcadia Bay, especially at Blackwell. I always see them in the hallways.”

“Yeah,” Nathan spoke up in a oddly small voice, then, as if realizing how unusual it sounded coming from him, said more loudly, “Not sure who the fuck took the time to put up all those posters, but it sure as hell wasn't me.”

“What, did you know Rachel or something?” Genuinely curious now, Warren sat up in his seat. Even though the shift in the topic of conversation was a bit of a curveball, he was more than grateful for the change.  

“We talked, not that that is really saying much.” Nathan admitted. “Rachel knew just about everybody.”

“Even me?” Warren asked to no one in particular. “I mean, she was cool, but she kinda seemed out of my league. She just didn’t say it to my face like everybody else did.”

“She was totally out of your league.” Nathan confirmed his doubts with a straightforward scoff, not missing a beat. It was like he had been waiting to hear him say that. _“Way_ out. No way you guys would've been friends.”

“Anything’s possible..” Warren murmured, self-esteem wounded.

“Besides, Rachel didn't just hang out with anybody,” Nathan went on, either not hearing Warren’s meek reprisal or just not caring altogether. “Whether you believe it or not, she had standards. If she didn't like you, she would find some way to let you know, and she wasn't above being extra as fuck.”

Just like earlier with Dana about Trevor, Warren was already making generalized connections with Nathan about Rachel, probably quicker than what was considered safe.

“Seems like you two were pretty close friends. Best buds, or maybe something...more?” There was a deliberately flirtatious undertone in the last part, and Warren even decided to wiggle his eyebrows for more effect.

Nathan stiffened, and Warren instantly knew that he went too far.

“That's none of your fucking business.”

The harsh response was like a physical slap to the face, and Warren bit his lip in a grimace. “Yeah, uh..okay, bad question. But you were friends with her, right?”

Visibly settling back down, Nathan briefly looked Warren’s way before answering, “Past tense.”

“Soo.. _ex_ -friends?”

“In a nutshell.” Nathan clenched his half finished can of soda by the rim, jostling it absently. His usually melty azure eyes were now sharp with clarity, warring between a lengthy range of emotions in a way that Warren found himself awed by.

“If you don't mind me asking..” He approached the question with fragility, wetting his lips when Nathan darted his eyes to him expectantly. “What happened between you two?”

His cautious tone was perhaps what helped soften the verbal blow he knew was coming, for Nathan didn't immediately castigate him afterwards. In fact, his initial reaction was much more watered down than usual; an incredulous stare, a slow shake of his head. But no yelling. That was an improvement in Warren's book.

“What do you care?” The awaited accusation eventually surfaced, not exactly bitter, but nowhere near warm either. “You were trying to bust me or some shit last night, and what, now you want me to just spill my guts out to you?” Nathan lifted his head, “Fuck off.”

“I wasn't trying to―” Warren started to protest, the words dying in his throat as he knew how much of a blatant lie his sentence would be. It was like Nathan had unceremoniously yanked the rug from underneath him. And at the moment, Warren was still reeling from impact.

Nathan took his lack of response as cue to proceed. “I have zero reason to tell anybody anything about me.” He stated, final and stern. “Especially not a slimy fuckin’ rat like you.”

The thorough sundering almost, _almost_ convinced Warren that he was beat here. If it had been anyone else, they probably would have given up ages ago. Except Warren never knew how to give up. He would try every and all options there was, running himself ragged until he found a solution.

It was no different here.

He had an idea of how to flip this whole thing around, and it was ridiculously risky, but after last night, Warren figured there was no other worst case scenario.

“It’s just, well…” he fletted around the bush, just long enough to make sure that Nathan listened to him clearly. “You _did_ tell me to come here.” He pointed out. “I can’t imagine that that’s all you wanted to talk about.”

The small verbal prod apparently proved itself to be effective, as Nathan narrowed his eyes at him, but gave no indication for him to stop talking. Warren let that keep him going. “After last night, I figured you would like, try and force me to keep quiet about all this, but you know, there really isn’t any point. Busting you wasn’t really on my agenda. I just wanted to know more about what happened at the party, which is why I came to you before you left.”

A shadow of thought passed over Nathan’s face, slackening from the previous flummoxed frown. His arms then crossed, his body winding back to rest casually against the booth.

“So..?” He supplied reluctantly, still not quite convinced.

“So, what I’m guessing is that maybe you’re not saying what you really wanted to say. Because you think I would just take that information and run with it.” Warren explained, revealing his trump card. “Which…I won't. Besides, who's to say the cops would even believe me?”

He searched Nathan’s expression for any sort of sign that he had hit the nail on the head, and he started to panic when nothing became noticeable, fearing it was all for nothing―

But then, Nathan _sighed._

And it wasn’t an exasperated or mocking sigh, spawned from a complete disregard for handling a bothersome situation any further. It sounded weary and…

Defeated.

“Rachel had been arguing with her parents lately, and was acting like a total bitch to everyone around her, me included.” He began monologuing, and it took Warren less than a millisecond to realize that Nathan was telling him about Rachel. Voluntarily, for that matter. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent a triumphant grin from spilling out over his lips.

“And so, deciding to be a goddamn white knight, I tried to get her to open up and tell me what the hell was going on. So, one night we had gotten wasted together, and I thought everything was going fine.” Nathan’s face darkened then, his blue eyes murkier than ever. “I don’t know _how_ it started, or when, but next thing I know, we’re arguing. Just fuckin’ _screaming_ at each other. She said some things, I said some things back, boiling point came and…”

Warren tilted his head ever so slightly, immersed in the story, wanting to know its conclusion. “And..?” He urged softly.

The two met eyes for a fraction of a second, Nathan being the first to tear his away with more venom than necessary.

“She just left.” He kept his gaze locked on the window. “Don’t bother asking to know what happened after that, because I can’t remember shit.”

Warren absorbed this information with a mute nod, even though Nathan couldn’t see it, swallowing at his weirdly dry throat. A vine of pity spread inside of him, wrapping itself around his resolve and threatening to squeeze it into fragments of dust.

“Did you really mean any of that stuff you told her?”

Nathan shifted uncomfortably. “Most of it, no.” He admitted. “But I was pissed off and drunk, so I hit where I knew it hurt.” He didn’t look the least bit proud of his actions. In fact, underneath the near all-encompassing frown, Warren would even say that he looked ashamed, an emotion he didn’t even know Nathan had, let alone express.

“I don’t even know why the fuck I told you.” Nathan suddenly reared up, all but putting his hand through the table as he brought his can crashing down. A few stray droplets sloshed out and onto the table’s surface, going largely ignored. “You shouldn’t give a shit.”

The rapid fire accusation stunned Warren into fiercely shaking his head. “No, no, I do kinda care. I just feel bad mostly..”

The can in Nathan’s grasp was now significantly dented.

“Look, I don’t need you pitying me, alright?” He snarled with immense frustration; he was practically shaking. “You don’t even know me, so don’t try to act like you do.”

“I’m not pitying you, Nathan,” Warren tried in a pacifying voice, like he was trying to calm down a pissed off cat that wanted nothing more than to rake his eyes from their sockets. “That’s probably the last thing you want from anybody.”

“Yeah, well...Rachel always wanted to leave this piece of shit town and live it up in the _City of Angels,_ so I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where she went. Honestly, good for her.” Despite his words, he sounded bitter. “I spent enough nights staring at my fucking ceiling wondering why she did it.”

“You don’t think it’s weird that she just left without a word?” Warren cut in, not wanting to drop the topic just yet. Nathan was being surprisingly open, and Warren could see now that he was quickly trying to close himself off again. “Why wouldn’t she tell anybody?”

“Like _I_ would know.” The Prescott rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time that day, though not as profound as the previous occasions. “We didn’t sit around painting each other’s nails and braiding our goddamn hair.”

“But you were obviously close to her.” Warren was puzzled by his own persistence, but he summed it up to just trying to obtain as much information as he could. “She trusted you enough to confide in you about her problems. That has to mean something.”

“Or she was just stupid enough.” Nathan rebuked, but his frown graduated into a scowl. “What the hell are you trying to say?”

Thing is, Warren had no clue what he was trying to say himself. His thoughts were piling on top of each other, all trying to force themselves out at once, and he was hard-pressed to keep them from making him say something completely idiotic.

He moved his hands about, as if it would help him communicate better. “I’m saying that maybe Rachel never left Arcadia Bay in the first place. That..maybe she..” He swallowed hard. Warren didn’t even want to complete that sentence. He hated himself for instantly turning to such a dark conclusion, especially one that probably wasn't true, but he couldn't take it back now.

Luckily, he had a feeling he didn’t have to, for Nathan’s eyes widened in realization, before promptly hardening.

“No. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Graham. If Rachel was still here, somewhere, those pigshit cops would’ve found her already. Obviously they didn’t find anything because she’s not here anymore. She dipped the fuck out. End of story.”

Warren was losing him fast. “How can you be so sure that she just left? What..what if―”

“Because I _know_ Rachel and you don’t.” Nathan finally cut him off, poised with the sharpness akin to that of a guillotine blade. “When she really, really wanted something, she did _anything_ she could to get it.” His eyes drifted to the table, tone going low. It was so quiet that Warren had to strain his ears to hear it. _“No matter who she hurt in the process.”_

Warren was effectively silenced by this utterance. He tried to figure out a reprisal, or at least come up with another question, but he had nothing. Nathan was shooting death glares at the remainder of the tater-tots, while Warren plucked at his fingernails. He wanted to leave now more than ever, but he also wanted to see what Nathan was going to do or say.

And..eventually he did say something.

“I need to find her.”

Warren tilted his head, as if Nathan had just spoke another language. “What?”

 _“I need to find her.”_ He repeated, aggression seeping into his tone. “You said you think she might still be here, didn’t you?”

Getting a grip on himself, Warren stammered, “Y-yeah, I did, but it wasn’t for certain or anything. How would you even find her? She could be anywhere―”

“Arcadia Bay isn't that fucking big.“ Nathan scoffed. “There are a couple places off the top of my head where I knew she liked to hang out at. We can start at her house. Go through her room, see if she left anything there that might―”

 _“Woah_ , wait a second,” Warren interjected, baffled by everything he just heard. Which was impressive, considering Nathan was talking a mile a minute. “I never said for sure that Rachel was still in Arcadia Bay. I just regarded it as a possibility. Secondly, where did this ‘we’ come into play? I never agreed to helping you.”

Like a spell being lifted, Nathan's once animated exterior dissipated, substituted by that simmering look of rage Warren was starting to become accustomed to.

“If you value that measly scholarship of yours, then you’ll have no other choice but to agree.”

Immediately, Warren flinched in his stance, jaw slacking open, and brown eyes enlarging. His scholarship? That was literally the _only_ thing that kept him at Blackwell. His parents didn’t have the money to pay out of pocket for him to go. They both worked in pretty good jobs and the paychecks they got were reasonable, though it wasn’t anything worth bragging about. At all. In fact, even with both of his parents’ money combined, it was still hardly enough to keep the bills paid and tax collectors from coming to take away everything they owned.

Not that Warren’s parents ever told him upfront about any of that, but he could vividly recall numerous nights of sneaking downstairs past his curfew, sitting on the steps and eavesdropping on the hushed discussions his ears weren’t supposed to hear.

So it wasn’t necessarily by choice for him to rely on his scholarship as much as he did. He didn’t enjoy having to constantly push himself to the brink to make the highest marks in all his classes, and being forced to hear the same rigid lecture whenever he scored anything less than an A plus on any his assignments.

To be frank, it was draining, both emotionally and physically. All he ever really wanted was for his folks to be pleased with whatever good grades he got, not look at him and say, _“You need to be better.”_

If he got kicked out of school altogether, well...home would be a distant memory. His parents would practically disown him at that point, distraught and disappointed in their son for failing to do the only thing they had asked for for years.

_And where would that leave him?_

Evidently, Nathan had a pretty good idea of his dilemma and was willing to exploit that for his own gain. From the way he had been talking, it was an idea he had stewed with for a while, only now taking the lid off when things had appeared to be falling apart in his eyes. Warren shouldn't have been surprised, but it still irked him, nonetheless.

“You're blackmailing me.” He muttered after a couple moments. It was a statement, not a question.

The vinyl seat crinkled and rumbled underneath Nathan’s shifting. His expression, indifferent. “Call it whatever the hell you want, but if you know what's good for you, you'd say yes.” He replied.

Chest expanding and flattening in a frustrated exhale, Warren sagged his shoulders, letting his vision fall to the table. He didn't trust Nathan at all to keep his word. He was conniving and dangerous in every way possible, and the very thought of formulating some kind of dysfunctional team with him made Warren want to turn tail and run screaming in the opposite direction.

But the alternative…

“Well?” Nathan impatiently grunted.

Maybe it would be over with faster than he was expecting. Like Nathan mentioned, Arcadia Bay was a pretty small town. It was almost nonexistent on the maps, shuttered off to some random corner of Oregon where it lay mostly unacknowledged, shadowed by more memorable locations like Salem and Portland. Because of that, it didn't leave a whole lot of places to look around here, and Rachel didn't seem like the type to be hanging out at the local fish market.

Warren caved in.

“Alright, fine.” He sighed. He couldn’t help but feeling like he’d been played. “But..there’s something you have to do for me too.”

Nathan eyed him incredulously, his answer lying within his expression. Warren suspected he wouldn't be too warm to his request, even before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Hate to break it to you,” Nathan began, scarcely apologetic. “But I’m not a fag.”

The insinuation at first slipped under Warren’s radar, until he pieced two and two together. When he did, the heat that assaulted his horrified face was absolutely scorching; he felt like he was going to combust into flames on the spot. “No! T-That’s not what I meant!”

“Well then, spit it out already.” Nathan urged with a steely frown, unbothered by the reaction. “I don’t have all day, chickenshit.”

Choosing to brush off yet another insult, Warren leaned most of his weight on his folded arms, anxiously crossing and uncrossing his ankles together. He mulled over his request, knowing that it had be worded in such a fashion that Nathan wouldn’t refuse it right away.

Then it hit him.

“I want you to apologize to Kate Marsh.” He stated, steadily at first, then added with a brisk stutter, “In person.”

Nathan’s reaction came like a rubber band pulled entirely too tight.

 _“What?!”_ He squawked, a wild look to his eyes. Joyce directed him a censuring glance from where she was wiping off the counter, though Nathan seemed to hardly gave it any thought. However, when he talked again, his volume was noticeably more hushed. “What the fuck for?”

“You know exactly why.” Warren swallowed back the golf ball sized lump that suddenly formed in his throat. “Kate almost killed herself yesterday. People had been harassing her for _days,_ bullying her, calling her names every time they passed her in the halls, and the list goes on. You name it, they did it. All because of that stupid video Victoria posted.”

“Hey, you better watch it, Graham.” Nathan warned, toting a critical stare. “You can't blame that shit on Vic. She wasn't the one who made the little rodent go to the party in the first place. As far as I'm concerned, it was a completely conscious choice.”

“I'm not blaming Victoria, but she didn't help makes things better by spreading the link around, did she?” Warren narrowed his eyes. “And I'm sure _you_ weren't extending a helping hand either that night―”

 _“Okay, okay._ Christ.” Nathan grumbled. “You can stop bitching already.”

“Is that a yes then?”

“It’s whatever the fuck I want it to be.”

“Aww, dude. _Come on.”_

“Eat shit, Gayram. You’re lucky I’m even considering it.”

Warren pouted insolently, but didn’t press matters any further. He _was_ lucky to have even progressed this far without too much trouble. The only real downside was having to cooperate with Nathan for an unforeseen amount of time, and there was no telling just how far he would go to find Rachel.

Warren wondered if getting out of blackmail was as easy as it seemed in the movies.

“Now that we understand each other _so_ perfectly,” Nathan changed the subject, his sarcasm returning with a passion. “How about we hurry up and get this started, yeah? I have zero interest in being around you a second longer than I have to.” He didn’t wait for any confirmation from Warren before he was propelling himself from the booth, hands swaddled in his pockets.

Warren watched him go, allowing himself to wilt thereafter as the bell rung, indicting the older was already gone. He sat idly for a bit before curiosity had him twisting his head to peer outside. Nathan was there pacing the lot, somehow already in the process of flicking his lighter to get a smoke going.

“I’m so gonna regret this..” The worrying thought escaped him in a hushed mutter, now gathering the few things he brought with him.

He fetched his wallet and quickly paid for both his small meal and Nathan’s abused soda, waving shortly to Joyce then scrambling out the diner. Warren involuntarily rushed as Nathan became closer and closer in plain sight.

Progressively, his steps slowed until he was standing about five feet away, an ansty shuffling taking ahold of his feet once Nathan catalogued his presence. He wasn’t saying anything, too preoccupied with inhaling the toxic fumes from his cigarette. The grimace Warren produced was reactionary, but also because Nathan just so happened to blow the smoke in his direction. Despite his honest efforts, he coughed anyway, fanning the smoke away to little success.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be smoking.” He advised kindly. Well, as kindly as he could with smoke threatening to strangle him. “It’s bad for you, dude. Lung cancer, you know?”

Nathan pinched his cigarette with a deft forefinger and thumb. Something akin to amusement lied in his expression.

“No, _really?”_

The fumes from the smoke must have done something to Warren’s brain, because he didn’t even pick up on the mockery in Nathan’s words. “Yeah. I saw a documentary all about it. Everytime you smoke a cigarette, the smoke doesn’t just damage your lungs, which, like I said can lead to lung cancer. But it _also_ affects your throat, which in turn can lead to―”

 _“Hoooly shit,_ I was joking, kid.” Nathan interrupted him rudely, throwing up one overly exaggerated hand. He turned to Warren with disbelief. “I didn’t ask for an entire goddamn PBS lesson.”

Presented with an entire tray of things to be offended about, Warren zeroed in one thing that he found just a little more irking to him than anything else.

“‘Kid’?” He repeated.

“Yeah. You’re a fucking kid.” Nathan shrugged. “You look like one, and you have the attention span of one.” The convoluted explanation spurred Warren’s eyebrows down into a low V.

“Dude, I’m sixteen. You can’t be that much older than me.”

Siphoning another drag, Nathan inhaled with enough force to send an even bigger plume of smoke Warren’s way. Speaking over the hacking and sputtering, he said, “I’m eighteen, dumbass. On the other hand, you look more like a twelve year-old to me. One that hasn’t even hit puberty.” He chuckled, husky from the vapor. “Maybe that’s why Crackfield doesn’t want to blow you.”

“Fuck you, Nathan.” Warren shot back instantaneously. Nathan cackled obnoxiously, and Warren steeled his jaw before storming past him, heading for his car.

Warren could proudly say he got about three whole steps to said car before he was apprehended, the unfamiliar coolness of a hand collaring his wrist. He whipped his head around to find Nathan giving him a calculated look, hardened with a wordless resolve that clearly wasn’t going to swayed.

“Let go of me, Nathan.”

“What are you, on your fucking period?” He countered, completely disregarding the demand he was given. “Jesus, lighten up.”

Warren didn’t answer, just about tearing his arm from its socket as he snatched his arm back. Nathan glared at the action, but he let his own retract listlessly. Tension was thick on the air, the incompatibility clear as day between them.

The expression on Nathan’s face didn’t falter, as he stated simply, “We’re not taking your car.”

“What?” Warren asked, accidentally barking the question. “Why not?”

“Because it’s a piece of shit on wheels. We’d be lucky if it even got us across the street.”

Turning around, Warren sized up the vehicle in question, adoration effortlessly curling his lips into a gleeful grin. “She’s a dream. A 1978 classic. It took me forever to finally get her off layaway, but it was so worth it. I mean, just _look_ at her.”

Nathan squinted. “I am, and it’s hurting my goddamn eyes.”

“She’s beautiful, man. You might not see it, but I do.”

“Yeah, whatever, my point still stands: we’re not riding in that thing.” Warren reluctantly swished his sight to Nathan, his face full of protest, but Nathan wasn’t hearing it. He did a smooth pivot on his heel and headed in the opposite direction where Warren’s car was, instead towards where a shiny scarlet truck was parked.

...If a drunk person had been behind the wheel and parked it, that is.

With its immense size, it veered off into one of the handicap spots and almost munched up the curb, boasting a prominent 120 degree angle instead of the 90 degrees Warren had learned in driver’s ed; full enough proof that Nathan wasn't exactly a graceful or considerate driver. It was almost...endearing.

“Damn, Nathan. Nice wheels.” Idly commented Warren, approaching the truck with a slow, comfortable pace. He unconsciously went to skim a hand on the ledge of the truck bed, but the deadly look he got from its owner made him freeze mid-motion. A little flustered, Warren meandered around the truck instead, noting all of its amenities. Amenities his own dated car lacked.

“It was a birthday gift from my shithead dad.” Nathan responded to his previous remark, now poised against the passenger door. He was still puffing on his cigarette. “Asshole figured that he could always buy my respect just getting me things I want. You know, like every father does.” He spat.

Frowning slightly, Warren chose not to comment on that. He gave a brief glance at the tinted windows before he stopped a little ways away from Nathan.

He started shuffling unsurely again, hand ghosting over the back of his neck where his hair sat in a cyclone of messiness. “I bet it must be awesome to be able to get anything you want.” He mused conversationally.

Nathan blinked at him, then blinked at the concrete, his chin lowering to softly touch his chest. Warren saw a final surge of smoke leave his lips before the cigarette was flicked to the ground, its orange glow dimming by the second. By the time he had finished watching it die out entirely, Nathan was already brushing by him to head to the driver’s side.

He got his answer a couple seconds later.

“It’s not.”    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No more updating 8 months late. But as always, thanks for reading.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ay, look at me, updating relatively quick this time. I hoped I could've gotten this chapter out sooner, but hey, at least it's not another 8 months. I had fun writing this one, because there's plenty of interaction between the boys, and if you squint, there are some Grahamscott moments. As always, I hope you guys enjoy. Any criticism is appreciated.

He was dying.

Well, not in the literal sense, but that was the only coherent thought racing over and over in Warren’s mind as he continued to retch on the side of the road. Back in the truck, its engine still emitting a soft rumble, sat Nathan, looking like his patience meter was ticking dangerously near empty. Concern had yet to grace his sharp features, no matter how violent the sounds of Warren’s puking came to be. It was almost humorous, seeing as how it was his fault that he was in such a crippled state to begin with.

From the very moment Warren caught that glimpse of Nathan’s parking job back at the Two Whales, he knew that he would be in for a wild ride. At the time, he just didn’t know _how_ wild.

It was like the moment they reached the streets, some invisible speed demon had took hold of Nathan and tried its hardest to make the trip as intolerable as possible. He did everything; ran through red-lights, swerved from lane to lane, tailgated, and most notably, performed whiplash turns that almost always sent Warren careening into the door.

And Warren had complained, and complained, and _complained_ that they were going to crash at the rate they were going, but Nathan’s persistent and fairly childish response was to crank up his already deafening music, drowning him out. In fact, Nathan had only bothered to acknowledge Warren when he realized he was turning a vibrant shade of green.

So, maybe out of kindness, or more fittingly, to prevent his truck from becoming the victim of projectile vomit, Nathan hurriedly ushered them off to the roadside and let Warren empty his guts. When he finished, his eyesight was bleary and unfocused, and he ended up wobbling most of his way back. By the time Warren opened the door and settled back into his seat, he was practically a puddle.

“Fuck,” he bemoaned, curling his palm into a fist against his sweat-slicked forehead. “I feel awful.”

The look Nathan directed his way differed very little from the expression he had before. If anything, it was even more apathetic.

Shaking his head to and fro, he scoffed, “Pussy.”

“It’s not my fault you drive like a maniac.” Warren shot back, annoyed that Nathan even felt compelled to launch an insult with the way he was feeling.

“If my driving is gonna be such an issue for you, princess, then you can always get out and start hitchhiking.” Nathan snarked, peeling the truck on to the road again when Warren’s response was mere silent glaring. He contended with a glower of his own, though he averted his eyes shortly after to concentrate on the expanse of road ahead.

Contrary to his words, Nathan did adjust his speed and also urged the radio down from its previously ear splitting volume. Granted, he still drove like somebody lit a fire under his ass, but this time around, Warren wasn’t as nauseous.

He considered that an improvement.

At some point, he inclined his weight into the door and eyed the scenery bustling past him, which seemed to be an infinitely better option than attempting to conversate with Sergeant Sarcasm. However, it must’ve been right when he’d gotten comfortable did the truck suddenly hiccup in a jerk, angled at the sweet-spot for Warren to smack his head right into the window. When he sharply turned to the culprit, Nathan feigned obliviousness, but the poorly hidden smirk behind his hand gave him away.

Warren mentally cursed him out.

He hated this. He literally couldn’t focus on anything but the resentment he had for the craptastic situation fate shoved him into, just for the hell of it. Warren found nothing more challenging than having to put aside his differences and work with a guy who strutted around with the mindset that he was hot shit.

A hot pile of shit, more like it.

Now here he was, aiding said pile of shit with his crazed plan that seemed to possess little to no sort of cohesiveness to it. The odds of them finding Rachel just wasn’t high on Warren’s list of possibilities, and no amount of half-assed explanations from Nathan would change that. For one, there was no way of telling if she was even still in Oregon; for all they knew, Rachel could’ve been tipping back shots in Miami at this very second.

According to Nathan though, she was still floating around somewhere in Arcadia Bay, and he'd made it his mission to find her; a mission that had also apparently become Warren’s by default. What the police couldn’t accomplish, surely a pair of uncoordinated teenage boys could, right? After all, nothing said ‘teamwork’ more than two dudes wanting to beat the crap out of the other.

Slipping back into the real world, Warren was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he had zero idea as to where they were in terms of location. He hadn’t really been focusing all that much on the scenery to begin with, but what he saw now definitely wasn’t the sight of small town Arcadia Bay. The old, familiar buildings he had gotten accustomed to seeing everyday were replaced by more well-maintenanced structures, most sitting low, others sitting high. Even the usual sea-salt ridden taste to the air was gone, in its place being one so clear, it almost stung to breathe.

There was an older woman tending to her orchids outside a flower shop, a beefy guy with a full-piece jogging suit to match and earbuds crammed in his ears, and even a girl wielding the leashes of at least 6 different breeds of dogs, ushering them to the nearby park. It reminded Warren of one of those picturesque towns he saw printed in magazines, detailing a place of serene luxury and higher living, so as long as you can afford the walloping costs that came with it. Looking at this place, Warren could see now that photos in the magazines did not do it any justice.

Nathan didn’t seem all that amazed by it, which led Warren to believe that he had seen it one too many times. He continued to drive in solemn, stoic quietude, intently focused on reaching the destination he had in mind. Even blinking seemed to be an afterthought for him. It was almost unsettling.

“Wow, I didn’t know Rachel lived in such a nice place.” Murmured Warren after a couple preparatory beats, finally finding it within him to try dealing with Nathan again. In no way was it him laying down an offer of diplomacy, but he was quite fed up with listening to nothing but an endless playlist of alternative rap.

At the sound of his voice, the older succinctly eyed him from the edge of his vision, a gesture that went unnoticed by Warren. For a second, he believed that Nathan was ignoring him once again, until he reached out to turn down the music, responding thereafter.

“Rachel doesn’t live here.” He spoke, slow and deliberate, like it was common knowledge. He still maintained eagle-eye attention on the road, not bothering to face Warren as he talked. Warren’s sightgazing was put on hold as he snapped his head to Nathan, greeted by the side profile of his aquiline nose and downturned lips.

“What?”

“Rachel doesn’t live on this part of town,” Nathan repeated with a harsher edge to his tone, like a knife sliding against concrete. “Yeah, she lived in a nice ass place, but this isn’t it.” The truck’s tires squealed as he executed a sloppy turn on to another street, with only about a couple inches of clearance. A plaza grew in the distance, the mix-matched buildings looming ahead, but he lingered on Nathan’s response.

“If we’re not headed to Rachel’s, then where..?” His question trailed off, hoping his confused tone was beseeching enough. Unfortunately for Warren, it didn’t so much as garner him a glance. The only sign that he had been heard over the music was the subtle way Nathan’s nostrils flared, alluding to the rapid resurgence of his aggravation.

Noticing this, Warren forced himself to clamp down on his tongue, sinking back into his seat with an air of passivity. Nathan wordlessly cruised into the plaza, which actually looked more like an outdoor mall than anything else. People were streaming out the shops and skirting the sidewalks, some with their arms leaden in colorful bags, while others carried nothing more than their cell phone. Some were enjoying a meal at the outdoor restaurants, others were snapping photos with their friends.

To be frank, it was crowded, only further illustrated as Nathan came to a stop to accommodate the wave of pedestrians crossing to the other side of the street, separated by a strip of marble.

Even though it didn’t take more than a minute for them all to safety traverse to the other side, Nathan’s fingers impatiently tapped at the wheel the whole while. It was hardly a second after the last person stepped off the street did he slam his foot down on the accelerator, the engine giving a roar as it barreled forward. Meanwhile, Warren was thrown back into his seat.

“Crap, take it easy.” He swore, a bit jarred by the impact. Nathan growled under his breath, but said nothing more.

Soon enough, they started slowing down again and drove into a nearby parking lot, claiming a space near the front of the establishment. While Nathan had already shut off the engine and began hunting for his wallet, Warren gawked at the colorful oblong sign.

“Dairy Queen?” He questioned.

“Congrats, you can read.”

Warren pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling like he was being overdosed by sarcasm at this point. He resorted to taking a grain of salt with just about every word that waltzed out the blonde's lips. “I meant why are we here, smartass.”

Nathan went about checking himself out in the crisp mirror. He only gifted himself a quick once-over before he slammed the thing shut, way harder than necessary, and verged on Warren with a sneer.

“We’re here because I fucking want to be here. Got a problem with that?” He snapped in question, eyes rimmed with venom and the unspoken promise of an ass beating. The thought of receiving two of those in one day had Warren instantly throwing up his hands in defense.

“Alright, alright, fine. Relax.” He managed, only retracting from his cautious stance when Nathan dragged his gaze elsewhere. With that, he got out the truck, handling the door with the same amount of delicacy as his mirror, and started up the short set of stairs leading to the restaurant. Once he vanished inside, Warren emitted a miserable groan, letting his head fall back into the seat.

Gulping in a quiet breath, he took note of the silence flitting around him, which was actually somewhat comforting, especially after having been stuck in a limited space with Nathan Prescott for damn near two hours.

Warren wasn’t intimidated by _him_ exactly, but more so by the things he could do. Not only did he own a gun, something that Warren had unwittingly got well-acquainted with last night, but he also had the ability to crush his future on the drop of a dime. All the hard work he continuously put in towards the forthcoming years of his life were at risk of being snatched away from him, and with no immediate way to get it back. Being the elitist son of the most affluent family in Arcadia Bay apparently granted you that benefit, tackled on with the rest of the bullshit benefits you already had.

And what could he do? Nothing, except to keep following along to the beat of Nathan’s drum until he decided he got tired of dragging him along.

Sighing, Warren basked in his peace for a few minutes more before he began making the painstaking climb out the truck, shimmying to the edge of his seat and hopping on the concrete only inches below. He retraced Nathan’s path into the Dairy Queen, wandering up to the door in a begrudging fashion.

Almost immediately upon entering, there was a complete change in the temperature from outside to inside, a chill clawing its way up his spine as his skin attempted to adjust to the chilled air. Wincing, Warren rubbed a hand up his exposed forearms, soon spotting the back of a familiar red jacket and dirty blonde hair just up ahead.

After a moment of thought, he shuffled up to Nathan’s side without a word, the individual in question tossing him a lazy glance.

“Took you long enough.” He hissed. His mouth twisted with ridicule. “What, had to make sure your make up was in place?”

“Shut up.” Warren tugged the wrinkled up sleeves of his undershirt down, extending its full length to stop just above his knuckles. He chose not to humor Nathan by admitting how true that statement actually was. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Nathan didn't say anything to that, his eyes narrowing faintly, though not in his direction. Turning, Warren realized that Nathan was not so subtly glaring at the girl in front of them, who had yet to complete her order. If Warren had to guess, he would say that Nathan must’ve been waiting there since he had first came in, which helped explain why he looked like he wanted her head on a pike. Examining the girl’s form, Warren could feel his face cloud over in warmth as he snagged a glimpse of the _extremely_ short shorts she had on. Coupled with that, the shirt she wore could hardly be considered worthy of that name. It was more like a piece of fabric that struggled with the task of covering her upper half, and even then, the entirety of her midsection was bared to the air.

Warren felt hotter and colder just by looking at her.

“Will that be all, ma’am?” The cashier behind the counter asked whilst placing down a rather ornate container of salad, sounding strained underneath her polite tone. Warren pitied her.

The scantily clad girl ogled the presented salad with a pinched expression on her face, highlighter red lips curled indignantly. After a couple seconds of simply examining it, she dragged the thing into her grasp with little enthusiasm.

“How much?” She demanded.

“That will be 6.20, ma’am.” The cashier informed.

The girl slipped out a sparkly pink wallet from her purse and brandished the exact amount, change and all, shoving it into the poor cashier’s open hand. As she began filing it into the cash register with a relinquished sigh, the girl whirled on her heel and sashayed out with her order, very nearly crashing her bony shoulder into Warren’s.

 _“Bitch.”_ Nathan spat once she was firmly out of earshot. He gave a disgusted shake of his head and went up to the counter, his form visibly relaxing at the meek, “Hi, how can I help you?” the cashier produced. Warren was still clueless as to what his role was, so he lingered beside Nathan idly while he peered over the menu.

When he found himself jerking forward by a not so gentle shove between his shoulder blades, he couldn’t do anything but flash the cashier an apologetic grin before whirling to face Nathan, peeved.

Unbothered by his reaction, Nathan firmly met his eyes and said in his most casual tone of voice, “Pick out an ice cream.”

Warren’s lips immediately parted in surprise, scarcely able to believe he had heard right. He thought he was hallucinating until Nathan flickered his eyes between him and the patient cashier in a quiet gesture, waiting for him to make a selection. So Warren hurriedly faced the girl again, praying she didn't already take him for some moron.

“Uh...I’ll take an um..” His eyes flew to the menu, declaring the first thing that caught his attention. “A Cotton candy blizzard..please.”

Thankfully, the girl was merciful, a kind smile present on her face. It could've easily been fake though. “And what size would you like that to be?”

Warren didn’t fare any better than before, his tongue plagued by the curse of stutters. “A s-small..?”

The cashier wrote his order down on to a notepad with flourish, lifting her head up at him once more. “Anything else?”

Warren regarded Nathan, mouth still but eyes speaking the same question.

“No, that’ll be all.”

Having been granted the go-ahead, the cashier told them the total and gave them the receipt, which Warren had offered to Nathan, but he had rolled his eyes and told him to “Fucking keep it.”, so that’s exactly what Warren did.

He could’ve very nearly smothered the cashier in hugs when she finally came back over, happily setting the blizzard he requested down on the counter. He gathered it with damp hands while Nathan paid for it, waiting for his change. However, when the appropriate return money was accorded, Nathan placed down another crisp 10 dollar bill. The cashier gazed at it with alarm.

“Um sir, the blizzard was only 3.59.” She reminded, clearly confused.  

Nathan nodded in affirmation, but he kept inching the money closer to the girl. “I know. But, considering you had to deal with Ugly Betty back there, I figured you at least deserve some compensation.”

She tried, “But I _―_ ”

“You’re not putting me in debt by taking a couple extra dollars.” Nathan injected in a voice as smooth as gold, shushing the cashier’s protests. “Here.” With that, he slid the bill all the way over the counter until it touched her fingertips, a action that spoke of finality regarding the issue.

The girl visibly hesitated, but eventually caved in. She peeked over her shoulder, checking for any prying eyes, then, in an almost abashed motion, took the bill and tucked it inside her pocket.

“Thank you.” She murmured with a faint smile, sending timid glances at Nathan. “Have a nice day.”

Nathan’s coy smirk and wink had the girl blushing like mad; she practically squeaked for the next customer in line to come up.

Warren was quiet as he spectated the exchange, seldom wearing anything but a look of shock the entire time. He followed Nathan’s form making a brisk exit out the Dairy Queen, reaching him just in time to catch the door. They both remained in equal silence until they were nestled back into their respective seats and reversing out the lot, in which Warren deduced it the opportune time to make dialogue again.

“That was..strangely nice of you.” He remarked, his vision meandering to Nathan inquisitively. “What gives?”

Shifting the gears, Nathan maneuvered his massive truck towards the open gap labeled ‘exit’, while his shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. It didn't appear as though he was going to offer any other response to that, so Warren didn't press any further.

“And this?” He raised the frozen treat in question, just elevated enough for Nathan to snag a glimpse without having to divide his attention. With lightning speed, he plucked the blizzard from Warren’s loose grip, cramming it into the cupholder between them.

“Not for you, fatass.”

Warren’s eyebrows began working wrinkles on his forehead. Nathan recognized his state of confusion right away and released a censuring snort.

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you? I thought you passed the first grade.”

“I don’t..” Warren uttered uselessly, his words failing him. The older sighed in exasperation, suddenly looking 10 years older.

“Marsh.” He deadpanned as explanation.

“You bought this for _Kate?”_ Warren's voice rose with excitement, the implication tugging a giddy smile on his face. “Nathan, that’s-”

 _“Don’t.”_ The cut-throat snarl ended the grin instantly, almost as quick as it had come. Warren could feel and see Nathan’s discontent; his once calmed blue eyes flashed like lightning in a storm. 

They spent the remainder of the ride without speaking a word to each other, falling back on to the crutch of music to fill the air. Oddly enough, it wasn’t the alternative rap from before, but rather some indie band that Warren couldn’t place the name of. Regardless, he found himself enjoying the song, and he soon began tapping a rhythmic finger on his thigh to distract himself from the incensed waves emanating off Nathan.

It helped.

****

~

****

The hospital was different from what Warren remembered.

While it still maintained the same sterile white walls that vaguely smelled of bleach and pine sol, and the floor tiles glistened from being newly waxed as it always was, something was out of place. Maybe it was because of the paintings he didn’t recall ever laying eyes on before, or the way the doors slid open at their approach instead of waiting to be pushed or pulled, but either or, it was different.

Warren trailed a comfortable distance behind Nathan into the reception area, thumbs hooking themselves inside his pockets. For the most part, the place was empty, save for a few people seated in the many chairs available. Multiple stares were ghosted their way at the sound of their approach, some more fleeting than others, though none full of any real interest. The young receptionist at the desk ceased in his rapid-fire typing at the computer and peered up at them, pulling a smile that seemed just a bit too wide for his face.

“Hello, may I help you?”

Nathan, uncomfortably squirming in his stance, hesitated in a way that Warren thought looked absolutely out of character.

“We’re...visiting.” He muttered, eyeballing the exit, as if he was calculating his means of escape. He looked ready to bolt at any second.

The man took a moment to type something into the computer, paying no mind to Nathan being out of his element, and when he looked up, his smile was ever present. It was a little creepy, if Warren had to be honest.

“Family or friends, and who are you visiting?”

Warren blurted out the answer before Nathan could probably even process the question, let alone formulate a response. “Kate! Uh, Kate Marsh. We’re friends of hers.”

Though he had been a little reluctant to label Nathan as a ‘friend’, his eagerness to see Kate made him lack the attention span to care. He could feel his heart begin to palpitate louder in his chest when the man slid over a clipboard with a partially filled out form and a pen, and before he’s even given the command to, jots down his name in scribble-cursive. Nathan tore it from him right afterwards, messily printing his own name and none too gently passing it back to the receptionist.

He exchanged it with two identical visitor’s passes, one for each of them. Warren stuck it to his chest without hesitation, right above his racing heart, while Nathan regarded his with a distasteful scrunch of his nose.

“Kate’s room is 857, which you can find on the fourth floor.” The man told them, leaning over the desk to point towards silver doors poised in the hall. “Elevator’s right over there. Visiting hours ends at 5 o’clock, boys.”

“We won’t be staying long.” Nathan cut in, flashing a plastic smile that was already chipping at the edges. Once the receptionist waved them off, he seized Warren by the crook of his arm roughly, hauling him off to the elevators. Warren struggled until he was released in a jerky motion, stumbling to regain balance on his bad ankle.

“What’s your problem?” He snapped, his arm still burning from where Nathan’s finger tips had been. The older gnawed ferociously at his lower lip, jabbing a finger at one of the two buttons before him. It glowed a luminescent white, while Nathan’s face was growing a steady shade of red.

Without warning, his body swiveled and his mouth twisted with the approximate snarl of a beast, standing almost chest to chest with Warren, punctuating the height difference between them.

The accusation was ripe in his voice, “My problem is that coming here was a stupid fucking idea.”

Warren raised a brow, not yet curbed by Nathan’s typical show of his temper. He went about it calmly, hoping common sense would chain him down. “We haven’t gotten to Kate’s room yet.” He reminded. “Anything could happen, you know.”

“Anything?” Nathan echoed, voice coated with acid. “So...as in, once she sees me, then she’ll want to jump off the roof of the hospital?”

Warren winced. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, in case you haven’t realized, Kate isn’t my number one fan right now. Considering she just tried to off herself, I’m probably the last person she wants to see right now.”

Warren made to change Nathan’s pitifully negative output towards the situation, but before he could, the elevator’s metallic doors slid open, and Nathan stalked inside. The incessant tapping of his foot meant he likely wasn’t going to hold it open for long either, so Warren filed in after him, fending off a sigh to no avail. He selected the option to take them to the fourth floor as they’d been instructed, and braced himself as the elevator obediently lurched upwards.

During this time, Nathan whipped out his phone, establishing that he had no interest in communicating for the time being. That was fine with Warren. He didn’t want to talk anyway. _Nope._

The duration of the ride wasn’t terribly long, and before he knew it, the elevator’s doors peeled apart again and revealed a floor that was nearly identical to the last, mundane paintings and all.

“Here we go.” Warren half-muttered to himself, loud enough for Nathan to catch ear of it. His returning scoff was dry, and without a word, he led the way into the hall. Following behind once more, Warren looked from door to silent door, checking for Kate’s room number amongst them. He saw 850, 852, 853, 855 _―_

“857.” He said aloud, stopping right in front of the room’s entrance. He looked to appraise Nathan, recognizing his body language had gone stiff and rigid again. The slight narrowing of his eyes indicated he was contemplating something, a little hard, at that. Then, in a sudden blur of movement, he shoved the blizzard into Warren’s unsuspecting hands. He only caught it on impulse.

Ignoring Warren’s blatant staring, Nathan plopped down in the chair near the door, giving a soft grunt as he did so. “You’re going in there by yourself.” He stated.

Warren’s mouth fell open. Fury winded through him, but he hastily masked it with a tone of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Dude, the deal was that _you_ had to apologize face to face.”

Nathan offered a gesture that was wholly unapologetic. “I’m changing the deal.”

“That’s so not fair.”

“Life’s not fair.”  He countered, toting an obscenely wry look.

“But _―_ ”

Their conversation was concluded as Nathan took out his phone, once again, no longer acknowledging the existence of anything beyond the tiny screen. Warren helplessly eyed him for a few seconds before deflating, turning back to the door. With the blizzard in hand, somewhat melted from the trip to the hospital, he creaked open the door, wearily shuffling inside.

A dainty form sat by the window, the mere sight of the familiar sandy blonde tresses making Warren’s mouth expand in a relieved grin. Having heard him come in, Kate swiveled around, and the sudden warmth that flooded her eyes made him feel like he had struck gold.

“Warren!” She exclaimed, lifting herself up and crossing the room towards him. Although he had seen her coming, Warren was unprepared for her to throw her arms full circle around his neck, having to slide a leg back to steady himself against the sudden addition of weight.

“Happy to see you too, Kate,” he murmured cheerily, maneuvering his arms to have one hold up the blizzard and the other to wrap around Kate’s form. It was a much better hug than the one he had given her just as the ambulance whisked her away from Blackwell. That one was rushed, not to mention they were both equally soaked from the rain, which only added to the discomfort of it all.

Their current friendly embrace lasted for a couple seconds more before Kate slinked away, her smile brighter than all the lights in Las Vegas. That vibrant energy slowly faded though, as she took in his appearance.

“Did you get in another fight?”

“Um…yeah.” Warren murmured, lowering his gaze sheepishly. “It wasn't my fault though, I swear.”

Kate placed a hand against his cheek, just over the spot where Nathan had hit him, soft and warm to the touch. Dana's makeup was still holding up for the most part, even if it had faded a little. Deep down, he hated to think it might’ve been a waste of her time.

“Does it hurt?”

Warren shook his head, unable to bring himself to look into her eyes, knowing the concern he'd find.

“Not anymore.”

“Warren..”

The pleading tone made Warren feel like total mush inside. Though it pained him to do it, Warren gently took Kate’s palm from his face, lowering it to her side. Instead, he lifted his own, revealing the frozen treat he’d brought. It had taken away most of the sensation in his fingertips already, but he didn’t care all that much.

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I chose the first thing I saw.” He admitted, cradling the back of his head as Kate took her gift from him. Her rosebud lips formed in a tiny o shape, before finally returning back to its former blaze, maybe even wider.

“You didn’t have to get this for me,” she told him, though she was already taking a spoonful of the ice-cream and bringing it to her mouth. Warren held his breath, instilled with the subconscious fear of her not liking it, but Kate’s eventual hum of approval made that fear evaporate.

“Cotton candy?” She asked perceptively.

“Right on.” He cheered, impressed by the accuracy of her guess. “What do you think?”

Kate pretended to give the blizzard a indecisive once over, judging it for all it was worth, but the small giggle of hers hinted her answer. “It's wonderful. Thank you, Warren.”

He was silent as the grave for a moment, his thoughts briefly drifting to the person sitting just outside the door; the person technically deserving to be on the receiving end of her gratitude. The heaviness of his nearby presence was a rather overwhelming thing, but Warren disregarded it as much as he could.

“You're welcome.”

With a curt nod, Kate meandered back over to her seat by the window, patting the bed in amicable invitation. It was obvious what she was implying him to do, though his feet begged to differ. It was like his sneakers had turned into concrete slabs, each and every timorous step feeling like he was wading through quicksand. Luckily, Kate didn’t pressure him to speed it up, more invested in her gift that he hated to admit was a good idea on Nathan’s part.

It gave him the time he needed to drag his body over to the bed, but instead of sitting down, he hovered nearby.

Kate’s eyebrows quirked in curious confusion at Warren’s standing form, a expression that yielded such simplicity, yet caused a seed of nervous laughter to sprout in his chest until it bubbled uncontrollably out his lips.

“I’ve gotta get going pretty soon, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He said.

It was probably the most truthful thing he had uttered all day, no doubt stemming from the catalyst that was dear Kate. She hadn’t been anything but earnest towards him, even during her hour of need, and no matter how hard he tried, misleading her was a task he struggled immensely with.

He watched the effect of his words lay into Kate, her peppy and upbeat exterior slowly deteriorating as she fell quiet. She faintly resembled the way she looked when she had first confided in him about her experience at the vortex club party, but marginally less frayed in terms of emotion. Sitting her blizzard aside, she graced Warren with a contemplative look, lacing her fingers together in the smooth of her lap.

“I’m fine.” She decided. “I feel much better than I have for the last week actually.” A smile spread, though from here, Warren could pinpoint the exact moment it began to die.  

“I just feel so stupid about yesterday. I don’t even know what I was thinking.” She turned her body more towards the window, but not so much as to completely render herself withdrawn. “I’m so glad you and Max were there to talk me down. I wasn’t thinking right.”

Even though he hadn’t been asked, something told him he needed to provide her some sort of reassurance, something he had been denied yesterday. So he approached, folding into a crouch just before her. She responded by taking one of his hands in hers.

Fueled by this action, he said what was on his mind. “Kate, that’s what friends are for: to help you when you can’t stand on your own. I’d do it all over again if I had to.”

It was odd, comforting others was something he didn’t have a strong penchant for. He felt awkward picturing himself whispering conciliating words to someone, or embracing them in strong, steady arms, repeating over and over again that he wasn’t going anywhere. Those were traits he’d reserved for the prepossessing heroes in his movies and video games, the ones who managed to overcome bleak and impossible odds and still had someone to come home to at the end of the day. Warren wasn’t a hero, he was just small town nerd that had gotten swept up in a confusing whirlwind of trouble and implausible events beyond his understanding, with little rhyme or reason as to how he’d get himself out. Being socially inept only added to that.

Yet as he spoke to Kate, he didn’t feel anything but certain about himself, content with his capabilities to soothe her lingering doubts. After everything she'd gone through, it was the least he could do.

“Oh, Warren. You're such an angel.” Kate exalted, squeezing his hand in adoration. “You and Max are the _best_ friends I could ever ask for.”

“You’re stronger than you think, seriously. Sometimes I wish I had your bravery.”

“Bravery?” She tilted her head quizzically, as if the word itself threw her for a loop. “What you and Max did were brave. I didn’t even know how to begin to handle the situation myself. That’s why I came to you for advice.”

The mention of his piss-poor attempt at advising her how to go about things made Warren channel a miserable groan. “Yeah, about that..I’m really sorry. My advice was _awful_. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was brushing you aside, I just wanted to make sure you got the best possible solution.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She refuted, catching his expression. “You were trying your best to help me, but I was too upset to realize that. I didn’t stop to see how genuine you were being.”

“Even still, I should have tried harder to help you.” Warren agonized.

“You _did_ help me. You and Max helped me out a lot.” Turning, Kate gestured to the cluster of balloons at the bedside, all of them stamped with different variations of ‘Get Well Soon’. It was a marvelous assortment of pinks, purples, blues, and yellows.

“She came by earlier to visit me, and brought me these.” Kate clarified, tugging softly at one of the balloons. “There’s a lot of other things too, from people at Blackwell. Postcards, letters, flowers; even Victoria wrote me a really sweet note. I gave a lot of the flowers away to the other patients who needed them more than me.”

“That’s awesome, Kate. But did you say Max was here?”

“Yeah, she and her friend.” She recounted. “I never met her before. She was tall, and her outfit was so punky. Not in a bad way though, I liked the way it looked. And her hair was amazing too. I’d _never_ seen anybody with blue hair before, it matched her eyes.”

The description matched at once, clicking something in Warren’s brain. “Chloe?” He supplied.

Kate clapped her hands in glee. _“Yes!_ Chloe! She was just the best, Warren.” She gushed, the apples of her cheeks blossoming. “I think she was a little shy at first, but she got used to me pretty fast. We talked about a lot of stuff and she gave me her phone number after Max suggested it. She even agreed to have tea with me some time.” She looked up as he rose to his feet. “Are you friends with her?”

“Uhh..” Warren hesitated, not wanting to arouse suspicion any more than he already was. “Yeah..yeah we’re friends.”

Kate didn’t see the transparency of his lie. Slowly, the butt of her pencil came to rest against the surface of her chin, her eyes wistful.

“I’m glad. Chloe is so kind, and I’m looking forward to talking to her again.”

“That’s great.” Warren chimed with a bit of forced delight, only able to half-listen to her with the thoughts bombarding his head. “I’m sure you two will be best friends in no time.”

“I hope so too, Warren.”

As she quietly went back to doodling on the paper she had, he shot a panicked look at the door, his mind racing. There was no way he could tell Nathan. In the short amount of time he’d been around him, Warren already deduced that his reaction to most things, even the _tiniest_ , were usually explosive. Also considering that he still had perfect clarity of the showdown in the girl’s bathroom, something that he damn well shouldn’t, mentioning Chloe at all would just generate more questions than he had answers to.

And then there was Max. It shouldn’t have really come up as a surprise that she and Chloe were friends. In the dream, she had been there, weeping against the stall and profusely apologizing to Chloe after setting off the alarm, saving the punk girl from a cruel fate in a school bathroom. Warren would’ve thought Max would be elated to rescue her friend for a second time, especially after having to experience the exact same week from the very beginning. Maybe it was just the shock of it all? He couldn’t blame her then. Being that up close and personal with a gun was more terrifying than he had imagined; he was still reeling from his encounter last night. If he had to do it again, he'd be no good.

He just wished he didn’t still feel so clueless. Yeah, he knew snippets here and there, but the big picture was still miles away. He couldn’t exactly guesstimate when he would uncover it all, and with that monster storm getting closer and closer with each passing second, his time was running short. When was it supposed to arrive again? _Friday?_ That was way too soon!

Swallowing back his nauseating anxiety, Warren beckoned to Kate in the calmest, most people-friendly tone he could muster. “Hey, Kate?”

Obediently, the church girl ceased her movements on the paper and glanced up with rapt attention, the noiseless parting of her mouth a sign for him to continue.

“I've gotta get going now, there's a couple errands I need to take care of.”

“Oh, right.” Kate murmured, voice falling with disappointment. “That's fine. I'm not gonna be here for too long anyway. My family's visiting me tomorrow and then we're leaving town.”

That was news to Warren. He cocked his head, thoughts shutting up for just the slightest. “Yeah? Where you headed?” He asked.

Kate shrugged her petite shoulders. “Home, probably. My family doesn't live super close to Arcadia Bay, which is why they won't be able to make it here until tomorrow. Honestly, I can’t wait. It’ll be nice to get away from school for a little while, you know?.”

“I hear that.” Warren agreed wholeheartedly.

Kate quirked her mouth to the side, almost as if she wanted to say something in addition to that, but decided against it. “Anyways, I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you’ve got to get back to class.”

“Yeah.” Warren played along. “You should totally shoot me a text whenever you get on the road.”

Kate’s responding smile was warm, the conviction in her voice tangible. “I will. Thanks again for stopping by.”

“Anytime, Kate.”

Having spoke their final goodbyes and bidded each other a wave, Warren took his leave out the room, only letting his good-natured demeanor dissolve when he located Nathan’s hunched form in the chair. His phone was nowhere to be seen, and his head had been stooped low between his shoulders, which lifted at the soft click of the door, thereupon seeing Warren. Blue met brown in an unspoken, bizarre unity.  

“Fucking finally.” Nathan cursed, pulverising the quiet atmosphere and effectively pulling them both from their unexplainable stupor. He got out of his chair with all the grace of a creaky old man, huffily shucking nonexistent dust from his jacket. When he realized that he still donned his visitor’s pass, he ripped it from his sleeve and crumpled it in his fist. He squinted at nothing in particular until he realized Warren had not yet moved from his spot in front of the door. That was when his squint turned into a narrow.

“Yo, dipstick.”

Even though he shouldn’t have, Warren adhered to the call like an obedient puppy, too mentally torn to even bother chiding the other boy for it.

“Huh?”

“Christ, you really are slow.” Nathan spoke in blunt declaration, sounding like a frustrated parent scolding their kid. The insult didn’t faze Warren as much as it stumped him further, head cocking to the side. At the same time, his dark locks cascaded into his eyes and he swept it back firmly. For a second he almost thought he saw Nathan following the motion intently, but he immediately banished the idea from his head.

“Is it about Kate?”

“Obviously.” Nathan replied in a dry voice, boring at the empty space in front of him. They began to head towards the elevator, talking as they went.

“If it has to do with the ice cream, then she liked it.” Warren murmured, half-lifting a shoulder, half not. “Not a bad idea.”

If the subtle compliment had registered, Nathan gave no reaction to it, instead going up to stab at the buttons located beside the metallic doors.

“Did she even know who it was from?”

“No.” Warren answered, dragging his stubby nails up and down his forearm. The skin was getting red and irritated, but the motion was calming. “I realized it probably wouldn’t have been the best idea to tell her. No offense.”

Nathan rolled his eyes and jutted out his chin a bit, but other than that, displayed no true botherence about it. The elevator was taking a little longer than usual to arrive, so he reclined into an averse lean against the wall.

“Well, I did your shitty little request, so I don’t wanna hear you bitching about anything else.”

“Actually, you didn’t.” Warren gave Nathan a pointed look. “I said you had to apologize to her _in person,_ not just buy her an ice cream and call it a day.”

Nathan bared his teeth, flimy blue orbs becoming pinpricks. “Does it matter?” He demanded, clearly not seeking out an answer. “It's still better than me trying to suck up to her for ‘forgiveness’.”

“I know, but _―_ ”

“Then stop complaining.”

“I’m not complaining, it’s just that _―_ ”

“Funny, I said ‘stop’ complaining, yet that beak of yours is still yapping in my ear.”

Resisting the sudden desire to tear his hair out, Warren dawdled near Nathan as the elevator emitted a shrill ding and slid agape. They filed inside thereafter, Warren turning to his stoic opposite.

“Can I just say one thing?”

Nathan huffed, observing the doors head on as they shut. “I rather you not.” He grumbled.

Warren chose to let that remark roll right off his back. “I’m..really glad you made an effort, at least. I seriously didn’t think you would.”

The shock that materialized on the blonde’s features came and left so fast that Warren blinked and it was gone. In its place was a condescending smirk lacking its usual vigor, more than likely just a placeholder for what truly lied under the surface.

“If you’re trying to say ‘thank you’, then you’re not welcome.”

Warren bobbed his head up and down lamely, unsurprised by the answer, yet a strange sense of contentment washed over him. He couldn’t exactly put a finger on what it was, and he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. There were a dozen things he needed to dedicate his focus on, and sorting out his feelings wasn’t one of them.

****

~

 

Warren twiddled his thumbs with an air of skittishness, attempting to distract himself from all the factors that suddenly seemed too overwhelming to consider. They were parked a little ways down the street from the vast, burnished wooden house sitting at the end of a winding stone path, flanked by high rising pine trees slowly melting to the camouflage of autumn. Fiberglass windows tucked into the structure reflected the sunlight from the sweltering afternoon sun, while butterflies lazily flapped their wings above the speckled patches of grass and stones. On the roof, a squirrel nibbled and gnawed at an acorn.

Wistful thinking had him hoping that Nathan would’ve changed his mind about his outlandish idea, but he knew he wouldn’t be _that_ lucky.

He swallowed hard, like he was trying to force down razor blades. “Do you even have a plan for getting into the house?”

Nathan answered in such a easygoing voice they might as well have been talking about something as trivial as the weather.

“Yeah. Bustin’ in.”

Warren’s eyes bugged, his worst fears confirmed. The fragile house of cards he tried to pass off as composure collapsed on top of him. “You’re gonna break in?! That’s illegal!” He shrieked.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Nathan derided, meeting his gaze with haughtiness. “And _we_ are gonna break in. You’re my bitch right now, remember?”

“You said you needed to find Rachel, _not_ to commit crime!”

He shrugged, uncaring to Warren’s self-righteous proclivity. “Consider it part of the package deal.”

“Fuck that! What if we get caught?”

“If we get caught, then I’ll be just fine.” Nathan dismissed. “The right amount of money can make even the most uptight fuckers come around. Sadly, I don’t think the police department is kind to penniless saps.”

Warren flinched, the words punching him square in the chest. He sucked in a breath, lifting the air on to his tongue and through the ridges of his teeth.

“And if I call it quits here?”

Nathan turned at that, just the slightest crease present between his brows. “You already know what’s gonna happen if you pussy out now. I made that clear from the start.”

“I know, but..” Warren shoved his face miserably into his palms, gut churning fear causing him to babble between his fingers. “I’ve never done anything like this before. If we get busted, then I'll get thrown in jail, I'll lose my scholarship, I won't be able to go to college, and my parents…I don't even wanna think about that. They'll be so mad at me.”

A hand abruptly shoved at his shoulder. “Don’t blow a blood vessel over there, science dweeb. I know Rachel’s parents. Her dad’s the D.A., which in simplest terms means he’s just another rich, arrogant asshole. Naturally, him and my father are friends with each other.”  He explained, smirking. Warren eyed him, hesitant to invest hope in one of _Nathan’s_ ideas.

“And how is that supposed to help us?”

Nathan got a devious glint in his eye. “I’m not a total stranger to Rachel’s parents. I came over their place enough times and hung out with Rachel so often to the point where they didn’t even bat an eye when I showed up anymore.” He shrugged. “I won’t go as far as to say they considered me family, but fuck it, it’s pretty damn close.”

“Again, how is that supposed to help us?” Warren insisted, still not catching on. “A couple nights of dinner isn’t exactly going to help us win any brownie points.”

Nathan gave him a dirty look. “It means, _dumbass,_ that I can always smooth talk my way inside. Breaking in wasn’t my only means of entry, more like a last ditch effort.” He confessed. A bit of relief flowed through Warren, the tension dissolving from his muscles, but the overall apprehension was still there.

“Okay, I guess that’s a little reassuring.” He exhaled, combing fingers through his shaggy bangs before they could flop over his forehead. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Nathan wordlessly returned to scrutinizing the Amber house from their vantage point, his current thought process an enigma. It almost startled Warren when he flew from up his seat and out the truck, already taking long-legged strides towards the impressive structure.

Warren didn’t fancy the idea of getting left behind, so he got out and lagged after Nathan, remaining on the stone paved walkway. Meanwhile, the blonde determinedly stomped across the grass and up the brick stairs, careless to what he trampled underfoot. He paused before the mosaic front door and just barely pressed his face to the glass, attempting to snag a glimpse inside. Warren’s heart lurched at the action.

 _“Dude, what are you doing?”_ He half-whispered, half-squeaked, throwing a paranoid glance around the vicinity. _“Somebody could see you!”_

“Would you chill the fuck out?” Nathan glowered at him over his shoulder. “I’m just checking to see if these fuckers are home, so stop busting my balls.”

To illustrate his point, he whirled on his heel and crossed down the steps to the left, now content on examining the garage interior. He tipped himself almost indistinctly on his toes and glanced through the windows. Whatever he saw seemed to have encouraged him to skulk around the back of the house, vanishing entirely from Warren's eyesight.

He froze, breath catching in his throat. He was, for the moment, alone on the steps of Rachel's house, and all he could feel was the heat that begin to pool at the back of his neck. It was like a thousand tiny eyes were suddenly on him, waiting, watching to see what he would do. Exposed was a good word for how he felt, and the urge to scramble back to the truck was near innate. Out of sheer curiosity, he too tried to peek through the somewhat transparent door, seeking out a silhouette. _Nothing._ Out of an even larger curiosity, he tried the handle. _Locked._

Warren was sure if he hadn't looked suspicious before, he definitely did now. He could already see the headline blasted across every news station within 200 miles. _‘Arcadia Bay teen arrested for trespassing on the D.A.’s home.’_ He wondered what his mugshot would look like.

He took a couple steps back, arms falling defensively to his sides, peering to and fro at the peaceful neighborhood. Somewhere, a dog barked in the distance.

Nathan was still nowhere to be found.

Up until that point, Warren remained as patient as he could, tolerating his own state of terror to see what magic trick Nathan would pull from his sleeve. But the longer and longer he remained, the more he wanted to back out on this whole deal. Could it even be considered a deal? Forced labor had a better ring to it.

Just as Warren mustered another retreating step in the opposite direction, the door began to shift and rattle on the other side, and of course, his first reaction was to stop in place. If this were a mannequin challenge, he would’ve nailed it.

His anxiety took a back seat when it turned out to be Nathan, apparently harvesting the fruits of whatever unethical labor he had done, if his feline smirk was any clue to go by. He threw open the door, simpering at Warren’s disbelieving expression.

“Might wanna close your mouth, pretty boy. Not a good look.”

Immediately, Warren pressed his lips together, ears going hot. As Nathan slid aside, he plodded inside the house, which was even more intricate and decorative than the outside. The maple wood and cream pattern was still present, exemplified by the various articles of furniture and trimmings deliberately set up about the place. There was a neat living room directly to his left, populated with a pair of recliners on opposing sides, a three-piece couch parallel to a coffee table, and even a fireplace, with a fairly immense flat screen suspended right above it. The drawn curtains hidden behind the couch emitted a lukewarm glow to the place, which was the only current source of light in the mostly dark house.

The kitchen was right beside it, a threshold which Nathan was currently roaming. An island containing flat stoves and a raised countertop rested in the center, chairs shoved around the edges. The monochrome fridge hummed a few feet away, while the rest of the area was dedicated to being a stock for shelves of varying sizes, a built-in microwave, the sink, and a marble counter for workspace, already crowded with appliances and utensils. What he assumed to be the family dining room was adjacent to the spotless kitchen, a full length wooden table underneath an ornate chandelier. There was even one of those father clocks in the corner, a quaint plant balancing on the top of it.

Warren took in the residence, awestruck, shifting his focus to Nathan. “Holy crap. Talk about luxury. How the hell did you get in?”

The blonde stared down one of the family photos on the wall, speaking to the picture. “Rachel kept a spare key out back. Sometimes I’d crash here with her, and she used the spare to get us in whenever she misplaced hers, which was all the time.” He recounted, averting his vision. He proceeded past Warren towards the set of stairs leading to the second floor, an act that must’ve been entirely familiar to him. However, to Warren, that was taking being intrusive to a whole new level. _No pun intended._

“Wait, Nathan _―_ ” He tried to call after the other boy, but his meek voice was swallowed by fear, and he was left sighing at absolutely nothing.

After a moment of resistance and antsy shifting from foot to foot, Warren dared to follow, worried about making contact with anything. His hands were curled firmly into his sleeves.

He reached the top of the stairs in a matter of seconds, lingering at the sight of a door positioned at the end of the hall, and another on the left side. They were both closed, except for the one Nathan stood at, hand engulfing the knob. It was like he was waiting for something to happen, and that was what cued Warren in a bit to his mind’s wavelength. He was, after all, returning to the stomping grounds of his past, and even though Warren couldn’t stand the guy, he still felt a little bad for him. It couldn’t have been an easy thing to do, and now he was about to have a full color rehash of memories he kept under lock and key.

It was because of that realization that Warren kept quiet, only meandering a bit closer to remind Nathan of his presence. The small gesture was what finally prompted the blonde to twist the knob the rest of the way open, a premeditated care to his movements.

The sweet scent of artificial freshener was the very first thing that appealed to Warren’s senses. The next was the light. Pouring over the entirety of the room, the third thing he noticed was the state of it. It was clean, top to bottom. The bed’s plum-colored sheets crocheted in a cherry blossom design were folded and smoothed out, the pillows looking recently fluffed and rearranged with precision. Shoes that he expected to be in dogpiles all over the place were lined against the walls, each and every pair extending out the exact same distance. An alabaster desk had a chair pushed up against it, and a laptop was aligned perfectly in the desk’s center.

Masks of different color and variety were used as displays mounted high up on the walls in a straight row, while the shelves diagonal from it contained tidily stacked books, knicknacks, and a music player.

Everything about the place just screamed ‘teenager’ to Warren, and he could tell right away that Rachel was a girl of many trades.

Nathan had already begun rifling through the dresser’s drawers, though Warren had no idea where to put himself, feeling terribly out of place. Funny, he had no trouble last night searching through Nathan’s belongings, and the current scenario he found himself in now bared zero difference. Except there was a huge gap of a difference, and what exactly that was eluded him.

He unconsciously crossed his arms and gazed silently at the pictures on the wall. A lot of it was just posters of obscure bands or torn pages from magazines, but there were photos here and there. Rachel was present in a few of them, either posing with someone he didn’t recognize, or solely alone in the picture itself. In one instance, he saw both her, and Chloe. The setting looked to be at a party of sorts, the two flashing the camera devil horns, barely visible over the harsh glare of light permeating the lens. Whilst Chloe’s blue locks were tousled and wild, Rachel had her hair up in a high ponytail, styled in a way that Warren would’ve expected a rockstar to have. Behind their outrageous expressions, the contentment and happiness that was there was manifest.

He turned to see if Nathan paid any attention to what he was doing, but the other boy was preoccupied with turning a makeup bag inside out, cursing at the sheer amount of product that fell out. Warren rolled his eyes at the sight.

More pictures of Rachel and Chloe were pasted on the walls, and as he walked around, examining each photo as he passed, he stumbled across one that caught him off guard. Rachel was in it of course, and another familiar face that Warren almost failed to recognize. But then the resemblance kicked in; same dirty blonde hair, filmy blue eyes, a lopsided smile framed by twin dimples _―_

_Nathan._

The subtraction in years was evident. There was still a bit of baby fat in his cheeks, his usual flawlessly gel-slicked hair more fuzzy and curled in places it wouldn’t be, and a friendliness to his eyes where malevolence would later take its place. Even more than that, the scarlet letterman’s jacket Warren came to recognize as trademark was nowhere to be found. Instead, younger Nathan wore a muted cobalt sweater, clinging snugly to his smaller frame. Beside him, Rachel beamed an extravagant smile, arm outstretched to balance the camera while leaning close to urge a timid Nathan into the shot. Blackwell’s rust colored bricks and trimmed grass was a blur of color in the background.

Warren couldn’t kept the find to himself. He reached out, carefully removing the thumbtacked picture out the wall and leisurely strolling over to Nathan.

“Seriously?” He asked, highly amused, waiting as the older boy paused in his search to turn and see what it was he wanted. Immediately, his gaze dropped to the photo pinched between Warren’s fingers, and his face twisted like he caught a whiff of something rank.

“What the fuck? Where the hell did you find this?” He demanded, snatching the photo.

Warren pointed an innocent finger at the corner wall near the bed. “Over there.” He answered. “I almost didn’t know it was you.”

Nathan continued to pin his younger self under a brutal stare, eyes darting about to every little feature he possessed then that rubbed him the wrong way now. Warren stood beside him at a comfortable distance, still marveling over the sight.

“You look so much different here.”

“‘Disgusting’ is the word you're looking for.” Nathan grimaced, deciding he had gotten more than his fair share of the picture. He returned it to Warren, shaking his head as he went back to searching through the dresser. “Now that you’ve seen me at my worst, how’s about you actually start helping out now?”

Warren wanted to protest, but the warning glance slingshotted his way drained him of resistance. He defeatedly put the photo back up on the wall, and busied himself with probing through the shelves. They stayed like that for a little while, wordlessly alternating between searching through cracks and crevices to peering out the window curtains. Half an hour soon passed, and Warren found nothing more than a few misplaced coins, more photos, and a wardrobe of clothes big enough to open a thrift store.

“Nothing over here.” He announced to his partner in crime, unable to deduce if he had much luck either. Nathan had recently graduated from the dresser to the closet, the cacophony of his rummaging almost swallowing his voice whole.

“Keep looking. There’s gotta be some juicy shit here. Try the computer or something.”

Warren considered this, eyeing the sleek laptop idly resting on the desk. At least that was something a little more up his alley.

With a bit of rejuvenated vigor, Warren went over to the desk, evenly sliding the chair from underneath and lowering himself in it. Already, his fingertips prickled with the phantom energy to type, though he kept it under wraps as he slowly lifted the top cover. To no surprise, the screen had accumulated quite a bit of dust from inactivity, trapped in the corners and stuck to some of the keys. Warren did the best he could to clean it with a shirt sleeve, brushing the particles away on his jeans and reaching to turn the device on at the same time.

The computer’s logo popped up on the screen, followed by the faint sound of the machine's internal fans whirring to life. After about a minute or two of simply waiting for it to boot up, it transitioned from a purely dark background to the wallpaper. Warren could only focus on the gorgeous California landscape briefly before the real matter at hand reared its ugly head. The password.

“Dammit.” He hissed, irked that such a small thing was stumping him for the second time. He racked his brain. Out of random, he tried ‘Chloe’. Didn’t work. He also discovered that there were a set amount of attempts he had before the computer manually locked him out, and with one failed entry already slapped down, he had four left.

Warren decided to go about this wisely. “Hey, uh, Nathan?” He called. The sounds coming from the closet lessened a bit, and Nathan’s distinct vocals barked over it.

_“What?”_

“Do you know what Rachel’s password is?”

The clunky search stopped altogether. Silence loud enough to buzz and hum in his ears nearly had Warren backtracking over his words in fear he’d said something idiotic, but then the rummaging returned, quiet at first.

“Her computer password?”

“Yeah.”

Another pause. It was longer than before.

“It’s…’cute Manhattan chicks’.”

Warren blinked, letting the name settle nice and snug in his brain before slowly spelling it out on the keys. “Just like that?”

“No spaces, all lower case.” Nathan murmured in correction. “And ‘chicks’ is spelled without the second c.”

Following these instructions, Warren typed in the correct password, pleased to find that it granted him access. With more loading in route, he slouched back in the chair and tossed a glance at the closet, convulsing a brow. “I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about that password. Where’s it come from?”

He hadn’t meant it in a mocking way, but Nathan’s grumble from within the tight space was painfully unhappy.  

“A stupid fucking TV show Rachel forced me to watch with her. I hated it because I always thought the main broads were dumb as rocks.”

Warren racked his brain for a minute, using the name of the password and Nathan’s crude recollection as a guide. A particularly pleasant memory flooded his train of thought. “Wait, you mean ‘Sex and the City’?”

Nathan made a sound that was decidedly not of humor.

 _“God,_ do not mention that name. I’m having flashbacks.”

“Come on, it wasn’t _that_ bad a show.” Warren had to fight back a peculiar smile. “It was a good time killer.”

“Only thing that show killed was my brain cells.”

Sensing the potential of starting another pointless argument, Warren shook his head and resumed his task on the computer. Astoundingly, the pages and tabs Rachel had open the last time she used it were still open, all reloading at his discretion. Unfortunately, most of the sites had already logged out the account after such a long time of no usage, and Warren wasn’t going to bet that Nathan had a full catalog of all of Rachel’s passwords.

YouTube was open in at least three different tabs, Netflix was on another, and on the very last one, the one Warren happened to be on that very moment, was Aol. Even though the account had already signed out, the singular encrypted email that Rachel had had open was still there. She had been exchanging messages to someone, Warren realized, scrolling down the page, mainly just to see how far it extended. Which...wasn’t that far. He started at the very bottom.

****

**_[lilmisslolipop, April 21th, 4:32 P.M]_ **

****

_You need to stop. You’re making the biggest mistake of your life._

****

**_[partyamber19, April 21th, 7:55 P.M]_ **

****

_Who is this?? What is this??_

****

**_[lilmisslolipop, April 21th, 8:00 P.M]_ **

****

_It’s an intervention. You aren’t gonna like what you find if you keep going any further. Stop while you can._

****

**_[partyamber19, April 21th, 8:02 P.M]_ **

****

_I don’t even know what you’re talking about?? Is this some kind of sick joke?_

****

**_[lilmisslolipop, April 21th, 8:03 P.M]_ **

****

_The only sick joke here is that you don’t understand the issue of being with a man twice your age. A man who’s a lot different than you think._

****

**_[partyamber19, April 21th, 8:07 P.M]_ **

****

_You can’t be fucking serious. Who is this?? I swear to god I’ll call the cops on your ass._

****

**_[lilmisslolipop, April 21th, 8:09 P.M]_ **

****

_Deflect all you want, but you know I’m right. You’re playing yourself, feeding into his fantasies. What will your father think?_

****

**_[partyamber19, April 21th, 8:13 P.M]_ **

****

_FUCK you. You don’t know me. I’m reporting this email, so have fun with that, shithead._

****

**_[lilmisslolipop, April 21th, 8:15 P.M]_ **

****

_I’m not trying to antagonize you. Rachel, just be careful with who associate yourself with. You’re playing a dangerous game._

****

**_[partyamber19, April 21th, 8:19P.M]_ **

****

_…….What? How do you know my name?_

****

**_[partyamber19, April 21th, 8:20 P.M]_ **

****

_Are you a fucking stalker or somthing????_

****

**_[partyamber19, April 21th, 8:31 P.M]_ **

****

_Hello???!!_

****

Warren reread the dialogue at least four times, shock draining all the color from his face. He felt like he had just witnessed a crime, and in a sense, he kinda had. A few months late.

He swiveled in his seat, locating the backside of the boy still buried deep in the closet. “Hey,” he announced, chewing on his lip. “I...I think I found something.”

“What?” Nathan responded at once, his attention doing a complete 180. He shot up so fast that he went head first into the shelf he had been underneath, and he came out grimacing and grumbling. Warren didn’t feel in it him to laugh at his misfortune; he simply waved the blonde over, gesticulating at the screen as he stooped forward to take a better look.

“Look at this. Is this spooksville or what?” Warren asked, turning to flick brown eyes to a tight jawline. In this proximity, he could see the faint freckles sporadically peppered across Nathan’s skin, like little individual flecks of cinnamon spice. He resisted the bizarre urge to count them.

 _What the fuck, Warren?_ His inner voice snapped at him, urging him to tear his gaze away and spiral back to sensibility. _You’re losing it. This is Nathan Prescott we're talking about here, a GUY. Not some cutesy flower girl._

Nathan pursed his lips together, wordlessly tabbing down the page, skimming the conversation again. He was completely oblivious to the brunette’s mental plight, his pupils dilated with intent on the email. He eventually let loose a low exhale, blowing warm air just millimeters away from the hairs on Warren's cheek.

“Seems pretty anonymous to me.” He decided.

“Hold on a sec,” Warren beckoned, waiting for blue eyes to slide towards him. “Rachel went missing in April, right?”

“Yeah, the 22nd. Why?”

“Look at the date these were sent.” He instructed, watching as Nathan shortly squinted at the screen, the surprise nearly muddled by the scrunch in his brow.

“April 21th.” He murmured, more mouthing than actual words.

Warren nodded. “This was a day before she went missing. If that’s not suspicious, I don’t know what is.”

“Are you saying you think Rachel and this person are connected somehow?” Nathan questioned.

“Well, _yeah._ I mean, just look at what they said. They were trying to warn her of something.”

“More like _someone.”_ Nathan proposed offhandedly, now seeing eye to eye with Warren’s reasoning. One could almost see the gears turning in his head. “This person knew about whatever the hell Rachel was doing, and thought they could talk her down from it.”

“From the looks of it though, Rachel didn’t know this person.” Warren examined the messages again, backing up his statement. “She even threatened getting the cops involved, but it’s like they didn’t even care.”

Nathan massaged his temples, vocally expressing his frustration. “It's like one big shitfest of a puzzle.” He hissed. “Can't you like, track down where the email came from?”

Delicately rubbing at the spot just below his neck, Warren furrowed his brows, his answer produced thereafter giving it marginal consideration. “Tracing the IP isn’t necessarily difficult, but there’s always the possibility that this person used a VPN of sorts to assign themselves a totally different IP, or maybe linked up to a proxy that we don’t know about.”

“In fuckin' _English_ please?” Nathan brazenly requested, staring at him like he had asked him to explain quantum physics.

Warren couldn’t resist the sigh that escaped him. Leaning back in the chair, he simplified his explanation as much as possible. “It means that if this person is as good as they seem, then they probably hid their actual location, or worst case scenario, used a disposable device to send the email. We’d pretty much be going on a wild goose chase.”

Nathan groaned, walking away to pace about the room. Warren observed the blonde try to cope with his displeasure only for a couple seconds, soon going back to what he was doing on the computer. This time, he went perusing through the file explorer. It didn’t take long for him to come to the conclusion that most of what Rachel kept stored on the computer were things that had to do with school; assignments, information about after school clubs, powerpoints.

Other stuff was more personal, such as the entire folder of what looked to be songs and poems Rachel wrote. He only read one, leaving the others alone out of some ultimately pointless homage, clicking back on to the page containing the email.

“Well, we might as well snap a picture of this.” He announced, offering an fleeting glance at Nathan before fishing for his phone. “Never know. Might come in handy later.” Just as Warren had gotten fingers around his phone, Nathan beat him to the punch by brandishing his own, half-assing a gesture for him to scoot aside. Warren did, and Nathan snapped at least three photos, just enough to capture the whole email. He scrolled between them all, nodding with at least a bit of satisfaction.

“Better than nothing I guess.” Nathan conceded, though he still looked rather unhappy. “Find anything else on there?”

“Not really. It just looks like school stuff, and songs she wrote.” Warren lowered the lid to the laptop, feeling oddly disappointed. “I guess that was all we got.”

“Wonderful.” Nathan remarked with a grit to his tone. He glared at the laptop as if it had offended him somehow. “If that’s really all there is, then we should get the fuck outta here now.”

“Wait, you checked the whole closet already?” Warren asked.

“I checked what I could without making it obvious somebody was here.” The blonde elevated his shoulders, nonchalant. “I’m not sure if Rachel’s parents look up here often, but I didn’t want to find out.”

“Makes sense I guess.” Warren muttered, the gravity of their actions starting to settle in a bit. He felt a little sick to his stomach, knowing that he had possibly defiled the residence of a deceased girl, but he stubbornly resisted the guilt that tried to come with it. Nathan was right. They _should_ leave now. They had gotten ridiculously lucky that Rachel’s parents weren’t home, and pushing the envelope any further would be foolhardy.

Subdued by the notion, Warren breathed a sigh, facing the slightly shorter boy. “So, where are we headed―”

_Slam._

Almost in perfect unison, Warren and Nathan snapped their heads to the window, then to one another, sharing an interchangeable look of wide-eyed horror. Nathan practically flew over to the window, shoving the curtains aside. Warren remained where he was, agonizingly waiting for the confirmation that it was Rachel’s parents arriving back at their abode. It took only a few seconds for Nathan to jerk back from the window like he’d been electrocuted, his face strained in crudely contained panic.

“It’s fucking Berry.” He spat, now rushing to hide any incriminating evidence that they were here. Warren slowly rose from his chair, using the desk as a support for his unsteady legs. The blood roaring in his ears was near deafening.

Berry. He remembered that name. That was the other officer in Wells’ office yesterday, standing off in the corner. He was mum the entire duration of the meeting, only shooting suspicious glances at everybody in the room, namely Nathan. He didn’t know to what extent the two were familiar with each other, but if Nathan’s reaction was anything to go by, he’d say they were pretty well-acquainted. And not in a good way either.

He couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice, “What are we gonna do?”

“Fuck if I know.” Nathan retorted with about the same composure as him, and that wasn’t saying a lot. Warren mentally cursed. Of course the guy wouldn’t know. It wasn’t like he kept all the answers in his back pocket. _Even though that would be really convenient right now._

He hurriedly looked around at their options, which were as bare bones as bare bones could get.

“Uh, shit, should we hide?”

Nathan scoffed disbelievingly, giving the room a look over of his own. “Hide _where?”_

“The closet?” Warren suggested, speaking faster now. Downstairs, footsteps creaked across the hardwood floor, indicating that Officer Berry was now inside. The policeman was calling out, sounding closer and closer to the stairs with each passing second.

“No fucking way that tiny shit is gonna fit the both of us.” Nathan said. Warren floundered, and the blonde turned to the only other option they apparently had. He pointed a finger at the window, though was already moving towards it.

“We can jump out and haul ass back to my truck.”

Warren shook his head, surprising both of them by laying a hand on Nathan’s shoulder, pretending he didn’t notice the way he stiffened. “Dude, no, somebody would definitely see us.”

“You got any other ideas?” Nathan hissed, still clutching the window’s cusp. When he got no reply, he pushed Warren aside, both physically and metaphorically, and began to lift the window open. Warren was a bit shocked to find the screen had already been removed, though he figured Rachel wasn’t above sneaking out.

 _“Is anybody up there?”_ Came from the bottom of the steps, making him flinch and encouraging Nathan to pull the window open with even more haste. A steady stream of “Shitshitshit,” spilled from his lips, a sound that didn’t do anything to ease Warren’s dread. The steps began to creak when Nathan finally got the thing open wide enough for them to slip through, not waiting for Warren before he started clambering out gracelessly.

He stood on the precipice of the roof, quickly turning for him to go next. _“Come on!”_

Everything in Warren’s body screamed at him not to do it, but the sound of Officer Berry shuffling up the hall had him changing his mind immediately. He followed after Nathan, bracing himself against the wall and throwing a single leg over the sill, then the other. His arms instinctively shot out as a counterweight to his body, stomach lurching at the ground below.

Nathan moved past him to shut the window, thereafter facing their new obstacle. Getting down.

“Okay, okay, that’s not a big drop.” He breathed, inching closer to the ledge. It really wasn't, probably not even high enough to sprain a wrist, but in Warren's scrambled state of mind, they might as well have been leaping from the Eiffel Tower.

Warren watched him, and at the same time, winced at the familiar and sudden prick in his skull. Another vision?

He closed his eyes, waiting for the darkness to expand into images, breath ensconced at the back of his throat. At least a full ten seconds passed with nothing happening, and when he blinked, Nathan was no longer at his side. Instead, he glanced down to see the older boy recovering from his jump, a feat he would’ve deemed impressive in any other situation for somebody wearing loafers.

 _“What the hell are you waiting for, Graham?”_ Nathan shouted, though probably not as loud as he wanted to. _“Come on!”_

The ground loomed below, suddenly seeming so much higher up. Warren bit his lip, the adrenaline pumping through his body and pounding his heart. Behind him, he heard the door creak open, a final warning before the cat was out of the bag.

He leapt.

In hindsight, he supposed he should've just climbed down. When he initially landed, he hadn’t felt anything but the soft thump of his own body making the transition from being airborne, to being on solid ground. A millisecond second later, a sharp pain shot up his leg with such ruthlessness that it had him gasping out, knees folding underneath him. The soreness he had been nursing in his ankle all day came back with the force of a ten ton truck, so debilitating that he didn’t even notice Nathan slinging his arm across his shoulders, forcing him into a lopsided gait back to the truck.

He was led to the passenger side door, just about tossed inside, and when he glanced over to his left, Nathan was there, shoving a key into the ignition. They quickly sped off down the street, leaving the Amber residence behind.

****

~

****

By the time Warren had began to feel better, Nathan had already gone through the evidence twice over.

After his supreme fuck up, Nathan drove them to a nearby park, one that looked like it hadn’t been put to use in years. The slide was covered in leaves and twigs, the monkey bars had turned to rust, and the swing set, though still intact, was wet and unsteady on itself.

He cut the engine to the truck without a word and whipped out his cigarettes, thankfully having the courtesy to get out and smoke. For a little while, Warren waited for his pain to ebb back down to tolerable levels. When he wasn’t sweltering with embarrassment, he sometimes peered up to watch the blonde meander about in front of the windshield, gray tendrils dancing from his lips and swept away by the air moments later.

Warren only decided to get out when he noticed the frustration growing on Nathan’s face, carefully sliding out the truck. Once outside, he daintily tested his weight on his foot. Still sore, but good enough.

Nathan paused as he approached, something undefinable flashing behind his expression. Warren couldn’t catch it in time before the usual hazy indifference clouded over.

“I was wondering when you would get off your lazy ass.”

“Same here.” Warren returned sarcastically, not bothering to conceal his limp as he made his way around the truck. “Did you find out anything?” He picked up one of the photos that was on the truck's hood, looking at it closely. Rachel, looking carefree as always.

Nathan puffed particularly hard on his cigarette as he continued to stare wordlessly, only turning away to release the fumes trapped in his gullet. A few coughs trailed after, though he barely gave himself any reprieve before going in for another inhale.

“Barely.” He threw the diary down on the sleek red surface of the truck, the object landing with a hollow smack.  

“It’s like she tore out half the pages.” Nathan went on, fiddling with the ends of his jacket sleeves as Warren investigated the book. “And even with the ones she left, she didn’t mention any names.”

Warren incrementally thumbed through the pages, or at least, what remained, seeing right away what it was Nathan was pointing out. Rachel seemed to write solely from her perspective, probably as a result of thinking no one else would read it. The level of ambiguity wouldn't have been much of a problem if it weren't for the fact that he and Nathan had no idea who she was referring to.

“You're right,” Warren laid the diary flat out in front of them, sighing heavily. It felt like they had taken three steps forward, and five steps back. “These are barely even breadcrumbs.” He admonished, looking to Nathan hopelessly. “Maybe she was afraid her parents would’ve found it and grilled her about it?”

“Nah.” The blonde refuted, flapping a hand at him. “If there was one thing Rachel was good at, it was hiding her shit. Getting found out wasn’t even on the table for her.”

Frowning, Warren directed his attention back to the lovingly worn book, flipping through blank page after blank page until he stumbled across an entry near the back. It had been torn out like all the others, except it was still tucked between the pages.

Knowing Nathan was listening, he read it aloud, _“I can’t believe what happened today. He’s totally driving me up a wall now, but, in a good way. I still haven’t told either of them yet and honestly, I feel like they would just look at me like I was crazy. Not that I would blame them. What happened between him and I today was a mutual thing, and no matter how I look at it, it’s wrong. So why is it that all I can think about is the feeling of his―”_

Warren flushed, abruptly stopping as the entry took on more detail than he could fathom. Nathan sneered at his frailty and snatched the page from his hands, damn near giving him a papercut. He silently finished what Warren couldn’t.

He scanned his face the whole time to see what his reaction was to it all, and for the most part, he appeared unfazed, but his blue orbs were hoarse with something too emotionally fierce to be indifference.

Warren didn’t know Rachel. From his perspective, she was just another missing girl, someone who he happened to pass by in the halls from time to time, but never had the courage to approach. But to Nathan, Rachel wasn’t just any girl. She was a friend, possibly even a lover, with a careful knitted web of connection to the Prescott heir. Rachel took the time to draw out the other side of him that was buried underneath the many layers of rage and pessimism, and now that she was gone, seemingly from the face of the earth, Nathan resorted to seeking out the help of a person he openly hated. Blackwell’s local rich kid asshat having to join forces with Blackwell’s local white knight.

“She was with somebody else.” Warren uttered softly, almost croaked, a result of trying to swallow back the sense that he was rubbing salt in the wound.

Nathan tossed his head despondently, doing a poor job at pretending to be aloof. Hurt constricted his would-be toneless laugh, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Warren noticed that whenever he got upset, he had a tendency of making his voice deeper than it actually was. It wasn’t exactly high pitched, not in the least bit, but it reminded Warren of a string that seemed perpetually pulled a bit too tight.

“I’m guessing she never really cued you in on her love life.”

The older sighed, cigarette fumes streaming out his nose and mouth. He too leaned against the truck, propping his elbows on top. “Rachel didn’t cue me in on a lot of things. Am I surprised that she had some secret fuckbuddies? No.”

“..Sorry. I didn’t mean _―_ ”

“Don’t apologize unless you know what it is you’re apologizing for. Otherwise you just look stupid.”

Even though Nathan had said it without looking at him, gazing out at the rustic park instead, Warren was flustered all the same.

“Oh.” He stammered, suddenly feeling extremely foolish.  “I just thought that..”

 _“What?_ That Rachel and I were together?” Nathan scoffed darkly, turning to see the thoughts that must’ve been plain as day on his face. “I wasn't her fucking plaything.”

He didn’t know why, but those words had Warren scrambling to justify himself.

“No, I just figured maybe you like, had a..crush on her or something.”

Nathan chuckled at that.

“Please. I didn't have a total hard on for her like you do for Caulfield.” He chided, continuing before Warren could get in so much as a syllable of dispute. “I just liked her better than a lot of the other chicks I've met. Most of them either weren't my type, or were just a pain in the ass to be around. Except for Victoria.”

Warren cocked his head to the side. “You and Victoria dated?”

 _“Gross,_ no.” Nathan cringed, violently, at that. “She's practically my sister. Dating her would just be weird.”

“I guess I just always wondered what you two were to each other. I see you hang out a lot.”

Nathan shrugged, eyes half-lidded. “Victoria's just one of the few people who would actually give a shit if I croaked the next day.”

That was when Warren's expression quickly turned sour, an action that the older boy ensnared out the corner of his eye. “Don't tell me you thought I was surrounded by a _never ending supply of love,_ or some dumb shit like that.” He looked tickled by the thought, but the heaviness in his brows only worsened and a sardonic smirk pawed at his lips. “Hate to break it to you, but news flash, people hate the Prescotts. They'd probably give up all the money in the world just to see us crash and burn.”

“Oh.” Warren squeaked out impulsively, pulling up a leg and hugging it to his chest. His chin balanced on top of his kneecap. He couldn’t imagine it, being hated for something he had no control of. People had disregarded Nathan pretty much the moment he was out the womb. All they saw him for was his family ties, not for the boy whose name was perpetually attached to that package deal. His bleak output on life and short fuse suddenly made a little more sense now.

“Does it bother you?” Warren asked, purely curious.

“As a kid, yeah, it did.” The cigarette Nathan had been smoking had reached the end, and he flicked away the residue before it could scald his fingertips. “I didn’t realize it was because of my family that people hated me so much until I was about 13. That was when my father sat me down and straight up told me I had a guaranteed shitty ride for the rest of my life no matter what I did.”

“That’s rough.”

“It’s whateverthefuck. I’ve pretty much come to terms with it already. It's a waste of time trying to fight against something I can’t change.”

“But maybe you can change it.” Warren found himself blurting, coming from a place lacking premeditated thought, and oozing natural optimism. Nathan stuck another cigarette between his lips, but didn’t light it.

“How’s that?” He bothered to ask, partly mumbling over the nicotine laced stick.

“I don’t know, be spontaneous? Kinda like how you were back at DQ’s. When you gave that cashier the tip.”

“So?”

“You didn’t have to do that. To me, and I could be wrong, but you showed sympathy for her.”

“That bitch in the shorts was annoying.” Nathan gruffed bluntly. “I could’ve easily not done what I did, but I had to show props to someone who can deal with people like that.”

“Yeah, but nobody said you _had_ to.” Warren corrected, producing a cheeky smile at the blatant fact that he was winning this argument. “You did it on your own accord, you know.”

Nathan grunted.

“You see, you aren’t incapable of changing the stereotype people have painted about the Prescotts. Like you said, you’ve already accepted it, but...maybe you don’t have to.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Nathan remarked, lighter now in hand, his gaze snagging on anything but Warren. Something was a bit off about his tone of voice.

“My bad.” Warren apologized on instinct, realizing his mistake too late. “I ramble a lot. Bad habit of mine.”

“Stop saying sorry so much.”

“Right, right. Sorry not sorry then.”

Nathan supplied a fairly amused look at that, even if it only lasted for a moment. He was back to huffing and puffing in no time, staring at the playground with a glazed over visage. Absently, Warren kicked his feet, weary of his dully throbbing ankle.

It wasn’t as awkward as he thought it'd be.

Not that they were all chummy now, but it felt like they had at least grown to tolerate each other’s presence. If somebody had told him a couple days ago that he would’ve been sitting and talking with Nathan Prescott in a civilized manner, Warren would think they were out of their mind. It wasn't long ago when he was plotting a scheme to get even with Nathan, something that lost so much of its importance to him all in the same week. Now he was working together with the guy.

Karma was a bitch.

“How's your leg?”

Warren startled out of his silence. “Oh, uh, it's okay.” He said. “I kinda got into a fight earlier, so I was already feeling a little messed up.”

“A fight?” Nathan echoed in interest. At least, it sounded like something akin to interest. “Didn't know you had it in you, nerd.”

“Well…” He murmured, contending with the idea of telling the truth. In a way, it was indirectly Nathan's fault. Logan and Zachary had been fighting in his honor, after their whole fiasco in the parking lot that seemed like a lifetime ago. For what reason, Warren would never know. Then again, he doubted jocks ever needed a legitimate reason to put their hands on someone.

He also doubted that Nathan would care either way.

“Logan and Zachary.”

Nathan’s head vaguely moved up and down slowly, the intent behind his gesture lying in obscurity. “Is that also why you have that shit on your nose?”

Warren almost forgot about that. He reached up and grazed the nasal strip with the pad of his finger, wincing at the tenderness.

“Yeah, it is.”

A sneer graced Nathan’s face, something sinister lurking behind those lips. “Probably from that useless bitch of a nurse, no doubt.”

“Hey, don't call her that.” Warren raised up, his posture going stiff with defense. Nathan slanted his eyes towards him the same moment his ankle throbbed, and he winced, but didn't back down. “She was super nice to me the whole time. She could've sent me away when I first came in, but she let me stay for a while.”

“Whatever.” Nathan retorted, carrying more resentment in his voice. “A fuckin’ infant could have done more than her.”

Warren opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. He spent a second or two scrounging up something else to talk about, perking up when he did.

“Oh hey, I've been meaning to ask: how'd you get my number?”

Nathan lagged with his answer, intentionally taking an long whiff of cigarette smoke beforehand. “I have my ways. Let’s leave it at that.”

A gust of wind suddenly swept through the terrain, making quick work of disheveling Warren’s hair. “Woah.” He reacted, tidying what he could with a bit of grimace towards Nathan. “Windy today.”

“Yeah.” Nathan’s brows lowered, what was left of his cigarette was dropped to the asphalt. “Let's bounce. This place is depressing anyway.” Hopping back down from the truck, Warren went to the passenger side door, clambering inside attentively.

He spoke as the blonde slid into the seat beside him. “What's next?”

“We talk with people, see what they know. I've already got someone in mind. He's not exactly a social butterfly, but he’s one of our main leads right now.”

Warren wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. Pushing down the unsettling feeling in his gut, he turned at the waist, shortly tugging on his seatbelt and fixating it across his chest. “How do you know he’ll even be willing to help us then?”

“Well..” Nathan drawled, putting heavy emphasis on the word. “He’s a personal contact of mine. We talk sometimes, you know, doing...trade.”

“‘Trade?’”

“As in, stuff that’s not exactly legal.”

It clicked, and Warren felt his soul die about five times over. “You can’t be fucking serious.” He scoffed, but the look on Nathan’s face said otherwise. “You’re going to take us to your _drug_ dealer?”

“Look, it wasn’t my first goddamn choice either, but I don’t have all the time in the world, and he’s one of the few people Rachel actually talked to.” Nathan took a deep breath as he nearly hollered every word, fingers choking the steering wheel. “Now are you with me, or do you wanna sit and whine some more?”

Warren scowled, but he could only keep it in place for so long before it deteriorated underneath Nathan’s. He folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t think I have much of a choice in the matter, do I?”

“No. Now shut it.”

****

-

****

A trailer hadn’t been the first thing that Warren imagined when he heard the words ‘drug’ and ‘dealer’ strung together. Instead, he had pictured some skeevy guy clad in a oversized jacket way too warm for the weather, hiding in a dusty alley and whispering for them to come closer and take a look at his ‘wares’. When Nathan pulled up a few yards away from the familiar mobile home, just outside a rickety fence leading to the ocean’s shore, he couldn’t resist asking the question he had cleverly held back on his tongue until then:

“Are you sure this is the right place?”

Of course, Nathan didn’t take too lightly to his inquiry.

“Idiot. You think this is my first time coming here?”

“I didn’t say that.” Was all Warren muttered back with. It would be great if they could go at least ten minutes without being at each other's’ throats.

Nathan clicked his teeth irritably. “Just get out the damn truck,” he instructed. They exited at the same time, merging together as they both stepped around the truck to walk side by side. A good few feet away that is. Warren began to blindly lead the way towards the RV when he was tugged back at the elbow by Nathan’s signature brutish hand. He hated that he was already getting accustomed to it.

“Alright, now listen. When we talk to him, and by ‘we’, I mean me, you need to keep your mouth shut.”

“Is there anything I need to know about this guy?” Warren asked, flickering his gaze to appraise the RV again. He would prefer to know ahead of time if they were dealing with some unhinged weirdo than learning the hard way.

Nathan’s face dawned in consideration.

“He has a dog.”

“What kind?”

 _“What kind―_ does that really fucking matter? Just shut the hell up, and we’ll be golden.” He released his hold on Warren, eyes lingering on him for just a second longer before he began stalking across the sandy landscape to the RV. It had gotten a little cold, he noticed, perhaps a factor of the fretful wind that refused to settle down. A small part of him chanted that dreaded word over and over again in his head.

_Storm. Storm. Storm._

Warren was hopeful that if the storm was truly coming, then at least maybe meteorologists would be able to pinpoint when and _where_ it would hit. They hadn’t always been reliable when it came to their predictions, but now, Warren would cough up a million bucks if it meant getting a confirmation about the whole scenario. He trusted Max with his life, but there was only so much faith he could instill in someone before he became antsy with unanswered questions.

He wondered what she was doing right now.

“Frank!” Nathan shouted from up ahead, already pounding his fist against the door of the mobile home. For some reason, Warren tensed with apprehension, all the hairs on his body standing up straight. Okay, so maybe Frank wasn’t exactly the most intimidating name, but it still didn’t paint a pretty mental image.

Inside, the sounds of a few coarse barks resounded. There was movement from within, a few thumps, a whine, then the slow, dragging rhythm of feet booming against the floor. Nathan backed off and took a place at Warren's side as the mechanisms on the other side of the door were undone, soon after swinging open with a shrill squeak of announcement.

Standing on the steps of the RV wasn't a strung out junkie, but rather a lanky fellow who looked like he should've been speeding down dusty highways with his equally rough and rugged gang. He wore a motorcycle jacket, washed out jeans, and donned combat boots that Warren imagined have kicked in a couple faces before. Layered on his forehead was short and cropped honey blonde locks, serving as an odd compliment to his harsh face, lined with razor sharp edges and creases tucked away behind the scruff of hair clumped on his chin and creeping up his jaw. Poised at his side was the dog Warren had seen at the diner, all bronzed fur and rapt, beady eyes.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite customer.” The man accosted. He immediately flickered his gaze to Warren, looking him up and down, from head to toe, before addressing Nathan.

“Who the hell is this? Boyfriend of yours?”

Warren paused for a moment, the former question phasing right through him, but the latter felt like a clean punch to his manhood.

“..What?”

Nathan all but shoved him aside to snarl an answer. “He's nobody important.”

“‘Nobody important.’” Frank echoed in a baritone chuckle, sapped dry of any humor. His chest heaved with visible exhale. “So you think you can just waltz your bony ass over here, bringing whoever you want, when you want, and that I won't have a problem with it? Are you insane, or just plain stupid?”

Nathan took a step closer, an action that Frank's dog audibly detested with a low growl at the base of his throat, stopping him halfway.

“I needed to ask you about something.” He explained.

Almost instantly did Frank scowl, one that could've easily put Nathan’s to shame. “What do you think I am, a fucking librarian?” He boomed. “You already harass me day in and day out about party favors, now you're showing up on my doorstep unannounced like you own the place. Guess that _Prescott_ power's finally gotten to your head, huh?”

“Come on, man.” Nathan begged, choosing to ignore the shot just taken at him. “Can't you just do me this one solid?”

Frank didn't budge. “You're wasting my time.” He said. “I've got shit that needs to be done, and playing twenty questions with you and Marty McFly over there isn't one of ‘em. Now beat it.”

With that, Frank slipped behind the door frame, already shooing the canine back inside, his claws scraping rapidly against the floor. Nathan reacted faster, trapping his hand on the door before it could shut.

Frank, clearly caught off guard, fumbled to settle on a facial expression before letting it crumple angrily. “Imma give you five seconds to get off my goddamn door, before I sic Pompidou on your ass.” He warned.

“I’ll pay you if you answer it.” Nathan bargained, probably coming up with the idea right on the spot; he wet his lips and urged the door open just a bit wider.

Frank's already pinched eyes narrowed further. “How much?”

“Name it.”

The man drew up his other hand and caressed his wild facial growth, badly in need of a razor blade. At the same time, he peered below to glance at Pompidou. The dog's head cocked to the side, salivating tongue flopping out his maw.

“Eight hundred.” Frank gruffed.

Nathan pulled out his wallet at once, thumbing through the many ridges of green before taking out a fairly good sized chunk of it and thrusting the funds against Frank's chest.

“Fuckin’ convinced now?” He sneered.

The man leisurely gathered the offered sum of cash into his hands, letting go of the door entirely to recount the money. After confirming that it was the correct amount, he smoothly pocketed it, skepticism his choice of an expression.

“Well shit, kid. I didn't think you were serious.”

“Are you gonna answer me or not?”

“Hey, slow your roll, Prescott. I’m listening.” True to his word, Frank pulled the door closed behind him and leaned against the doorframe of his home in a relaxed gesture, gazing between both Nathan and Warren expectantly. The two of them exchanged a look as well, though it was more of a threat on Nathan's part.

“When’s the last time you and Rachel talked?”

 _“What?”_ Frank blurted. “Why the fuck do you wanna know that? You two working with the cops or somethin’? Is that it?”

The wobbly facade of pleasantries Nathan had up suddenly dissolved, revealing his icy glare and balled fists. “I paid you to _answer_ questions, not ask them. If you're just gonna stand here and play fucking dumb, then give me my money back.”

Frank verged on Nathan. “Listen here you little _shit―”_

The moment those words crept past his lips, everything went black for Warren. The all too familiar feeling of someone taking a sledge hammer to his skull made him woozy, but not enough to prevent him from absorbing the otherworldly images.

_Frank and Nathan. They're arguing, screaming at each other over the top of their lungs. A knife gets pulled out, and so does a gun. Frank lunges, Nathan fires. A body hits the ground._

He was practically thrown back to reality once the vision ended, his heart stopping before restarting like a rickety generator. He staggered back for support that wasn’t there, his knees locking and bolting into place. God, seeing those visions were _not_ getting any easier.

“She meant everything to me!”

Warren glanced up to see that the two hadn’t pulled weapons out on each other, thank God, but they had gotten a little more riled up in the short time he was out of it. Frank was no longer on the steps, but rather standing in front of Nathan, hollering in his face. The blonde was holding his own, but Warren knew it was only a matter of time before his hand reached into his jacket pocket, fingering a trigger.

_“Rachel didn’t give a shit about―”_

Warren screamed in his panic to contain the situation. “We’re looking for her!”

The effect was instant; Frank froze and incrementally turned to face him, mouth hanging open faintly. Warren saw Nathan shoot him a murderous look out the corner of his eye, but didn’t give it the time of day.

“You...what?” The man stammered, completely forgetting what he was doing beforehand to approach Warren. “What did you just say?”

“We’re looking for Rachel.” Warren meekly repeated, picking at his fingernails like it would distract from the fact that they were shaking. “Nathan and I.”

Frank quickly looked at Nathan over his shoulder, turning back around to face Warren with a soundless chuckle. “Why? The police gave up looking for her ages ago. They closed her case, writing her off as just another _dead_ girl.” The pain in his voice was almost indiscernible underneath the anger.

“We think we might have a lead. But we needed your help.”

“Rachel was close to you.” Nathan chimed, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation without further incident. “We thought maybe she could’ve told you something before she went missing.”

At this, Frank fell quiet, jaw squared and hardened. Clearly they had hit the nail on the head, but whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen.

“Talk. Inside.” He eventually spoke in broken phrase, stomping up the stairs to his home and throwing open the door. “I need a damn beer for this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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